


My Heart Is Big

by kihadu



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Also Zevran, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arishok is a horse, Bianca is a horse, F/F, Feynriel is a horse, Horses, M/M, Sorry no Carver, There's a lot of dialogue, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kihadu/pseuds/kihadu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nat Hawke is an ex-assassin living out his days teaching kids how to ride horses when a strange tattooed man appears on his doorstep with no shoes but the most wonderous voice Nat has ever heard. So Nat gives him a job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

I was sitting at the table in the tack room surrounded by pieces of leather with oil all over my hands when he showed up. Isabela was out, which was the only reason I had started my thrice-yearly thorough clean of all the tack on that particular day. Every time I thought I’d heard every joke there was to hear, she made another. In her defence, it really was too easy. My life involved leather and oil and mounting great beasts and telling people to ‘feel that power between your thighs and _ride it_ …’

Last time, I chucked a browband at her, and now I made sure she was nowhere in sight when I cleaned.

“I don’t know why I have to muck out the stable. I don’t know why it’s always me,” the shrill voice rang through the stables. “I could do something else.” I couldn’t see Merrill, but I knew that she’d stopped shovelling horse muck and had poked her head out of the stable to glare in my direction. “Like help you. Or I could work Halla.”

“Last time I let you help, you attached the browband to the noseband and left off the reins,” I said calmly, my nimble fingers working apart a buckle. “You can keep mucking stables. When they’re done you can ride.”

“Andy gets to ride the horses and he doesn’t have to shovel poop.”

Merrill probably didn’t mean to whine; she just had the perfect voice for it.

“He’s been here since before lunchtime.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but Anders had arrived, eaten what I had planned to eat for lunch, and then had taken up residence on my couch to watch TV. It wasn’t a hardship per se. I had been watching TV at the time and he let me keep the remote, which was something.

My dog stood up and trotted out of the tack room, prompting me to lay the bridle out carefully on the table. It was too early for clients, and too late for any of the agisters. For an hour or so over lunch the stables were quiet, almost sleepy, so I got up and followed Batman.

A man stood silhouetted in the doorway, blinking in the sudden dim light of the stables.

“Sorry, have you been waiting long?” I said.

He looked frantic to flee yet hesitant to do so.

“I need a,” he looked like he needed a hot shower and a long sleep. “A job. I need a job.”

That voice… I swallowed. It would be unbecoming to grab someone asking for a job and shove them up against the nearest wall. After all, I did have a modicum of professionalism to me. Doing that kind of thing to more than one prospective employee was probably frowned upon.

“I’ve already got all the workers I need. More, really.”

Between the twins and Merrill and Andy and Isabela I sometimes considered buying more horses just to give them something to do.

“I’m sorry. I’m being presumptuous. Unless you’re hiring, which I don’t know that you are. I should go.” He gave a self-deprecating smile and turned to go. I hadn’t heard a car, and my property was a good walk from anything. I looked at his feet, and immediately made a decision.

“I don’t think you walked all this way to exchange those few words.” He said nothing. “Can you ride?”

“I,” he clenched his jaw, and then managed to form a whole sentence. “I do not know how to ride, but I am very good at working.”

I had a rule to hire those people that not everyone would. Merrill with her tattoos and defiant attitude, Andy with his arrogant mistakes, Isabela with her kleptomania. This man looked like nothing but trouble, which meant he’d fit right in.

“Come on, then,” I said. “You’ll need shoes, and then you can help Merrill with the stables.”

“Just like that?” he stared. I gave my trademark smile: almost joking, definitely flirtatious, always friendly.

“You know what they say about gift horses.”

 

Mucking out stables actually requires skill. Everyone’s always surprised by this, but if you don’t do it right you end up on the wrong side of a pile of shit with a blister in the web of your thumb. It takes planning, fortitude and a strong constitution to muck out a row of stables. I gave him spare shoes from the collection that I had formed over the years, shoes that were cracked and old and nearly but not quite at the end of their life. Although I desperately wanted to I didn’t ask him why he was barefoot.

He, in return, didn’t really say anything at all.

I gave him the basic how-to on mucking a stall, and I went back to the bridles before I realised I didn’t know his name.

Merrill, for her part, quickly discovered that there was someone doing her work and eagerly left her rake to come join me in the tack room. We worked quickly together, her polishing and me attaching the pieces back together, and we’d finished half the bridles before Andy came back in. He dismounted loudly, boots thumping into the sawdust.

“Not to alarm anyone,” he called, “but there’s a strange man in Feynriel’s stable.”

“Be nice to him!” I yelled back. “He’s doing your work.”

“A man? I thought it was one of the students,” said Merrill.

“I don’t see you complaining. He’s going to be working here now.”

“What’s his name?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll go find out.”

“Nat!” cried Merrill, no doubt intending to tell me off for hiring someone without even finding out their name.

“Hello?” called the familiar voice of Mrs Lusine. Her daughter, Sabrina, was already coming to greet the horse I’d assigned for her for that day and I was saved from Merrill’s questions.

It was my business. I could run it how I liked. Including hiring random shoeless strangers without so much as asking their name.

 

I was snatched away into a whirlwind that was the reason I didn’t fire anyone: it was nice to have people sorting out the students while I taught them how to ride horses. They brought me coffee and made sure the students had saddled horses and fitted helmets so that I could focus on nothing other than teaching, and I forgot all about the strange man I’d told to clean stables until there was the break between the afternoon lessons and the evening, and he brought me coffee.

“Have we met before?” I asked with a teasing smile. “You look awfully familiar.”

He kind of stared at me for a moment. “You gave me a job. You told me to clean stables.” He clearly wasn’t much for joking. “My name Fenris.”

He looked poised for attack, standing well outside of my arm reach. He darted forward just long enough that I could take the coffee from his hand.

“I didn’t introduce myself before, did I? I’m Nat. And no, it’s not short for Nathaniel.”

“Mr Hawke.” The tattoos on his chin were ridged, causing tiny sharp shadows against his skin as he spoke. “Thank you so much for,” I interrupted him.

“You’ve been talking with the parents, I see. Listen to Andy, not them. Call me Nat. If you’re angry, call me Hawke, but never Mr Hawke. And let’s get one thing straight. This isn’t charity. I’m not being nice to you out of the goodness of my heart.” Honestly, I was, but whatever. “If you want a job you’ll have a job. If Merrill or Anders complain, you’re out. If you steal something, you’re out.” There’s only so many habitual thieves I can deal with. “Do you have anywhere to stay?”

“I,” he started. I could see that he didn’t.

“You’ll stay with me in the house.” Immediately I knew it was the wrong thing to say. His face had gone tense, his mouth tight. “Or the stable,” I hastened to add. “If you don’t mind Puffin farting all night. We can sort something more permanent out tomorrow.”

Where he had been planning on going if I hadn’t offered was beyond me.

“That is very kind of you.”

“It’s a job,” I said firmly. “A paying job. Not a gift.”

“Do you provide accommodation for your other employees?”

The stable wasn’t accommodation. The stable was a drafty rats’ nest filled with dust and weird smells. I mean, it was a clean, respectable stable. But it wasn’t meant for humans.

“Occasionally.” Drunken nights and crashing on the couch counted as accommodation, I decided, so that I wasn’t lying. I finished the coffee with a grimace that he noticed.

“Andy told me to put a lot of sugar in, but I am used to making it without any, so I was unsure what he meant.”

“I hate coffee,” I said. “But it keeps me awake so I can’t complain.” He still looked doubtful. “Thank you, Fenris.”

His name was smooth on my tongue. Fenris. Feennrrris. I mentally rolled the R and it made the name taste delightful.

I realised I was just standing there with a coffee cup in my hand and a tattooed man looking at me rather nervously. He was trying to hide how nervous he was, I could see that, too. He was trying to be strong and I was pretty sure the moment I left him in the stable with only Puffin for company he’d fall apart.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps he’d not sleep a wink in determination for not breaking apart. He looked the sort.

I knew all about that. Demons at night, that kind of thing.

I mean, I still thought of them as the twins, even though there was only one, now.

I stopped letting his name roll through my mind and handed the coffee cup back.

Fenris went back into the stables and I stayed out staring at the empty arena. The lights burned the closing darkness away, and I mentally played out the dressage test I was doing on the weekend.

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to mope,” said Isabela. “There’s already enough of that around here.”

“What’s Anders done now?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, and offered a sandwich. It wasn’t mine, and I glared at the white bread a moment. “Who the hell ate mine?”

“That guy in there. The hot one who looks really pissed off.”

I unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. It tasted like sadness.

“His name is Fenris. I thought he looks,” I looked at my sandwich, “how this tastes.”

“I thought he looked like he’d taste a mite better than that.”

“I was being metaphorical,” I replied with a roll of my eyes. I hadn’t missed how he looked, but unlike Isabela I’d also noticed how he felt. Isabela gave a sly smile.

“I wonder who’ll find out where else he has tattoos first, you, me or Merrill. I’m betting me.”

“Anders doesn’t get a look in?” I asked innocently.

She made a face at me, then she laughed and slapped my knee and left me to stare at the empty arena with Batman at my side.

 

I very firmly didn’t consider what Isabela said. Nothing good ever came from considering what Isabela said. She was good, and friendly, and generally alright, but she was also a vulgar minded kleptomaniac who didn’t always consider other people’s emotions before she spoke.

Still, that night when I busy making sure that Puffin’s stable was good for the night and he was on a blow-up mattress on the floor of the kitchenette I couldn’t help but wonder if he was taking off his clothes to sleep, if perhaps I could take a peek at what lay beneath those worn clothes.

“Feel free to drink the tea, or the coffee. The carrots are technically for the horses, but I eat them, too. Toilets are past the tack room.” I didn’t tell him the tack room was locked, and that the lock was tested by Isabela.

I made a big deal out of her stealing from me, but mostly because I was still sour about it. I trusted her now, but it tainted how I thought of her. She’d stolen something of his, of Carver’s, and I couldn’t forgive her no matter what she claimed. But I trusted her, now. I wouldn’t let her around the kids or the horses if I didn’t.

“If you need me,” I continued.

“You told me already,” he said solemnly. “There’s a comm-line in the kitchen.”

I wasn’t nervous about leaving him, I just didn’t want to. The stables got cold at night, I knew that, and Puffin really did fart a lot. He was an old, arthritic palomino who needed a thick rug and to be kept inside every night. Across the way was Nancy, a little bay pony who I’d never heard make a single sound, and had latched onto Puffin’s side the moment I’d introduced them.

“Are you sure you aren’t hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

He looked like he was about to wither away, but Isabela did say he’d eaten my sandwich. I wanted so much to peek next door, but instead I politely closed Puffin’s door and called, “Goodnight.”

There was a grunt in response.

I checked the fridge before I left the stable, and pocketed some of the more expensive and potent medicines.

Handsome tattooed man with a wondrous voice aside, he was still a stranger. I wasn’t going to trust these drugs around someone I didn’t know.

“Do you mind staying here, Batman?” My brute of a dog looked at me, and trotted back into the stable. He’d keep watch.

Just in case.

 

* * *

 

Batman woke me up much earlier than usual.

I was used to the dog lying on the other side of my bed, giving me the pretence of a warm side over there. He’d wake me up before the alarm when the birds woke up, desperate to get outside to bark at them. It didn’t matter if I left a door open for him, he always, without fail, woke me up.

Usually the sun was up, or at least considering it.

It was four am when Batman came scratching at my window, paws beating at the glass.

I was up and pushing my feet into my shoes even before I’d fully opened my eyes. I grabbed my phone without thinking and rushed outside, only grabbing my coat that hung by the door when the freezing dark air hit me.

The stables were a distance from the house; usually I was lazy and drove there. I sprinted down the slope of the paddock separating us.

The great sliding doors bounced against their stays as I rushed in, nearly punching the light switch.

I expected it to be Puffin, who got colicky, or perhaps Nancy, who sometimes did stupid things like opening her stable door, which left Puffin behind to get frantic.

I hadn’t forgotten Fenris, but when I saw him standing in the breezeway I was stopped short.

He was shirtless, for one.

Shirtless, and very obviously distressed.

There was a shovel in his hands being brandished like a weapon.

I wrenched my eyes away, knowing that I was prying.

Part of me was pretty gleeful at having seen how the tattoos curled down his neck, passing over his collarbone and stretching down to caress his chest, his ribs, his belly. They dipped beneath the waistband of his pants.

But I knew that I was seeing him in an awful moment, and he didn’t want me there.

“Batman was worried,” I said, focusing on Nancy, who blinked lazily at me. “Are you alright?” I looked back at him. He hadn’t moved, standing as though about to fight. His chest was damp with sweat and heaving at a frantic pace. His stomach rippled with each breath. I ignored the tattoos. I recognised a panic attack when I saw one.

“I thought I heard something.”

“I see,” I said slowly. “And that’s a perfectly acceptable reason to grab a shovel?”

He looked at the offending tool in his hands, blinking.

“Look,” I said. I was used to troubled people. With Bethany I’d hug her, but I wasn’t about to get into this guy’s space. “I don’t need to know your life story to know that something’s fucked here. But there’s no way in hell that I’m leaving you out here in this freezing stable to forgo sleep listening to bumps in the night.” It was a big speech, especially for me. I usually kept to snarky one-liners. I kept going. “So you’re coming back to the house with me where Batman can keep you company properly and you can have a lock on your door.”

He was just kind of staring at me, and I was beginning to wonder if I had dreamed his voice.

“Put on a shirt, and come with me,” I said.

“A lock?” he asked.

“Both front and back doors, plus the spare room. I can even set the gate alarm if it will make you rest easy.”

I let him take a moment to consider what I’d said. It was clear that he had no desire to intrude on my personal space, and I had no desire to force him to be somewhere that he didn’t want to be.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said.

He leaned the shovel against the wall and went to put a shirt on, and then he followed me down to the cottage.

 

I showed him his room without going into it, pointing out that there was an electric blanket. Then I offered to make him a cup of hot chocolate, and left him in the spare room with his limp bag of few possessions.

Setting the chocolate going I rifled through my own stuff. I had a wider chest than him, thicker shoulders and a more solid torso. My body was by no means embarrassing; I’d worked hard to get it how I wanted it. All that meant that the only things I had that might fit without swallowing him were from _before_.

Still. Fuck the world and what they think. It’s a good attitude to have, so I got the thickest warmest jumper that he probably wouldn’t drown in.

He looked at it a moment when I offered it to him.

“What is this?”

“It’s a jumper.” He kept looking. “It’s for you. To stay warm.”

“I’ll be fine.”

I gave him a very serious look and he reluctantly pulled it on. He did look grateful, even if that particular shade of purple didn’t suit him.

He didn’t say anything about the colour, though. Which I was glad for. In fact, he didn’t say much of anything. I poured him a hot drink and he nodded his thanks, his face saying more than his nod. We drank together in silence, and then I pointed out my bedroom.

“In case you need anything. Do you want Batman in with you?”

His jaw twitched, and he didn’t want to say yes. He didn’t want to admit weakness, this man who had nothing and who I had just broken out of what looked like the tail end of a full-blown panic attack.

“Batman, stay with Fenris.”

His name was fun to say, so I said it again.

“Goodnight, Fenris.”

I turned to go to my bedroom.

“Why are you doing this?”

I stopped short and turned slowly.

“I don’t have any money to give you.”

“I told you. This is a job. You work. You get paid. You don’t pay me.”

“I don’t see Anders here.” I could see him hating himself for questioning it but unable to stop. “Or Merrill. Or that other one.”

“I expect nothing in return, except that tomorrow you’ll work.”

“I don’t have money,” he said. He looked nearly shattered. “But I can pay you.” His finger tugged at the hem of the jumper he’d just put on.

“Fenris,” I said. “No.” I said it firmly, and it startled him. “I expect nothing.”

I suspected that I’d have to repeat myself quite a lot with this man.

He bit his lip before he forced the issue again, and I went to bed. I heard him stalking around the house, learning where the floor creaked and checking the locks again and again and again.

Neither of us got much sleep that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a bunch of notes that I didn't put in the previous chapter!
> 
> This is set in a modern perversion of the Dragon Age world. Hawke is living in Kirkwall, but it’s a different kind of Kirkwall, where he has a farm with horses and they have cars and phones and that type of thing. It’s kind of… a suburban dystopic version of the Dragon Age world. There's no magic. 
> 
> Gideon Emery, voice of Fenris, has done a number of audiobooks, two of which are on economics (hence that particular comment in this chapter). I found a few minutes of one on youtube, and it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. 
> 
> The title comes from the song Atlas Air by Massive Attack from the album Heligoland.

Come morning we were both wrecked. I told Fenris to have a shower by insinuation, leaving a towel conspicuously out on his bathroom bench with a stack of my old clothes next to it. Clothes from before. Jeans, a shirt, both hard-wearing.

Usually breakfast was a sullen affair at my house. With only myself and Batman to cook for I kept to muesli. Toast was for days where I felt like putting effort in. But he could fit into my old clothes from smaller days and he’d had less sleep than me, so I took it upon myself to make up everything I knew how to cook: eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, potato pieces, fried tomatoes and mushrooms.

He looked very taken aback by it all.

“Do you usually do this for your employees?” he asked. I wondered if that would become his trademark question. “I thought you didn’t like coffee,” he added, watching me pour the dark, vile liquid into my mug. I didn’t serve him. I didn’t even let my hands cross over the centre of the table. I was very aware of the need to let him have his space. Like a skittish horse, I couldn’t cross into his space without invitation unless I wanted to damage him further.

His white hair was mussed from the shower and his face looked haggard. The tattoos looked more like scars.

I wanted to ask. I didn’t, and quipped, “They do say breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

Fenris looked rather doubtful, while I hacked off the fat from the bacon and tossed it to Batman.

“Whose clothes are these?”

I gave him a too-sharp look.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t… That was inappropriate. My apologies. You don’t want to talk about ex-girlfriends with strange men you collected off the street.” He finished in a short laugh at himself.

Some people I tell right off the bat. “Hi, the name’s Nat, can I buy you a drink? By the way, I was born a girl, so be prepared for funny equipment.” Other people I don’t tell for years. I still don’t know if Aveline knows. Some things she says suggests yes, but other times it indicates no. So long as she’s married to Don and I’m not sleeping with her, though, I guess it doesn’t matter, but it means I’m never quite settled around her.

I decided to tell him. An olive branch, of sorts. A sign of vulnerability.

“They were mine,” I said. He gave a little frown. “Before.” He still didn’t understand.

I always called it that: “before.” I never said “transition”; I rarely called myself so much as “trans”. If I was pressed I said “queer”, but even that revolted me. I preferred to think of myself as a regular gay man.

“I’m not genetically male.”

“Oh.” He fumbled for the proper response, and settled with repeating himself. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me.”

I shrugged, trying to put him at his ease.

“You would have noticed the moment you tried to put anything into the pockets. Best thing about transitioning. Pockets. Though I no longer get handbags, so, tit for tat, I suppose.” Talking like that made me uncomfortable, no matter how easily I made the words fall from my mouth. “I would have given you something else, but you’re a skinny bugger.” I flashed a smile to show that I was teasing and he looked uncertainly back at me. “You said you don’t ride.”

Fenris shook his head. I noticed he hadn’t eaten much. I noticed how he watched me eat, as if trying to gauge what behaviours were acceptable. I kept talking to pretend that I hadn’t noticed.

“How do you feel about horses in general? I don’t mind teaching you, but if you’re going to work here you have to at least stand near one occasionally.”

“You’re still willing to give me a job? Even after my behaviour last night?”

I shrugged. I was no stranger to panic attacks.

“Merrill’s got to go back to university next week, so a spot is opening up.”

I’d not planned to fill that spot, but that didn’t matter. Perhaps I could point out to Anders that it was high time he went back to being a practicing vet. I’d tried before, but maybe Fenris being there would provide the push he needed. I wasn’t willing to let Fenris go, not in the state that he was in.

“I don’t know anything about horses.” He sounded apologetic, almost ashamed. As though not knowing something was his fault and I would criticise him for it.

“They’re pretty easy to figure out. They eat hay and shit a lot. Leave one alone for more than a few seconds and chances are it will try to sever its leg on the nearest surface.”

Fenris stared, and I smiled. I wasn’t joking. Horses were more prone to accident than a five year old left alone in a room filled with broken glass and poisonous candy.

“I’ll let you stay here so long as you clean up after yourself. Your bedroom and bathroom are your responsibility. I’ll take rent out of your pay.” I made a note to tell the others not to come over quite so often. I wasn’t sure Fenris could handle all of that. “I’ll show you around. First sign of irresponsible behaviour around the horses, and you’re out. Drugs, and you’re out. I allow alcohol but you’re not allowed near the horses under the influence. Steal anything, and you’re out.” I gave him a hard look to show him I meant business, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t into anything of that ilk. His tentative manner suggested that whatever had happened to him wasn’t his doing. “Does that work for you?”

For a moment I was afraid he was actually going to say no.

“I’m not in a position to refuse such an attractive offer,” he admitted. He said it very slowly, and he didn’t quite meet my eyes as he said it. He held out a hand over the table. I looked at it and, cautiously, stretched out to shake it. 

 

* * *

 

“Rule one,” I said. We were standing at a paddock fence. “If I tell you something, believe me. Rule two: if you have a question, ask me. I don’t care if you think it’s a really stupid question. I don’t care if it is a stupid question. You have a question, you ask me. I’d rather explain the signs of mouldy hay fifteen times than have a stable of horses with botulism. Got it?”

He nodded uncertainly, and I tried to relax myself. I turned into a different creature when I was informing people, someone with a loud voice and stiff formalities. It was good for the students while they rode because my brusk manner acted like an anchor to ease their nerves. Fenris, on the other hand, seemed almost cowed by my manner. I gave a crooked smile and in a softer voice said, “Any questions?”

“What’s rule three?”

“Glad you asked. I’m not sure. The rule list is very hazy. I mean, there’s boring ones. Don’t run near the horses. Always stand where they can see you. No smoking. Keeping yelling to a minimum. But they’re not very interesting rules and you seem like an intelligent man who can figure those kinds of things out for himself.”

“You’re taking a lot of chances with me.”

I pretended I didn’t hear him.

People new to horses have two methods of approaching them. Either they try desperately to hide behind themselves, or they stroll in like they know the world, and possibly had a hand in making it. I had become good at guessing who was which, and it wasn’t based just on appearance. Timid little kids sometimes marched into paddocks and demanded the horse come over, and adults wise in the ways of the world would stutter with their hands, fumbling to sort out the rope and halter while Puffin stood languidly nearby idly chewing a piece of grass.

Horses stripped you bare, forced you to be honest with yourself and the world.

I wasn’t sure about Fenris. He was aggressive, defiant, a pillar unto himself, and yet there was an air of absolute uncertainty about him. Puffin and Nancy were my two favourites in any kind of situation. Puffin was too old and Nancy too docile to cause many problems, and both knew the general routine. Nancy stood patiently as I showed Fenris how to put on the halter, flicking an ear at an insect and half dozing off.

“Now you,” I said. Fenris looked at the mess of halter in his hands and tried to sort it out the way I’d shown him. “It’s easiest if you put the rope under and over the horse’s neck. It gets it out of the way and means that you can grab them if they tried to wander off.”

Puffin, having become bored, had dropped his nose to the ground. I tugged at his mane, and he lifted it enough for Fenris to put the rope around.

“Noseband in your left hand,” I reminded.

“This is more complicated than I thought,” he admitted.

I smiled. “And then you learn and can do it in your sleep.” I noticed he didn’t move until he had first examined the situation, taking stock of what the matter was before untangling the unbuckled strap from the buckled noseband. Halter on, I congratulated him.

“Now, stand on the left, just in front of the shoulder. You should walk with the horse, tug with your hand and then use your body to walk him forwards. You should not ever be in front of the horse to walk him.” Fenris was doing that naturally, moving with Puffin rather than trying to drag him behind. Puffin wouldn’t allow that kind of thing anyway. He was too old to allow himself to be bullied about.

We ambled back down the paddock to the gate, and then I taught Fenris how to open and close a gate while not losing the horse in the process. Normally with Puffin and Nancy I’d just open their stall doors and their paddock gate on my way through to feed the horses in the morning, and they’d wander easily from the stable and I could close the gate on them as I made my way back, doing the reverse in the evening. It was a little early for the pair to come in, but they didn’t mind.

“Have you been doing this for a long time?” he asked. It took me a second to realise he had said actual words with meaning, and he wasn’t just airing his voice for the sake of it.

“About five years, now. This is my retirement.”

“From what?” he asked, curiosity masked in his voice by a tendril of uncertainty.

For some reason my standard answer stuck in my throat, but I wasn’t about to go blurting out the truth. Only Varric really knew, and that’s because I trusted him to pervert the truth so thoroughly that there would be scarcely an essence of honesty in the final product. He was writing my memoir, of a sort, and thought he could drag it out into a series.

Aveline and Don liked to think they knew, but neither were in the right field of law enforcement to have any real understanding. The most they had were a number of sealed files that they didn’t have clearance to see, and then they were only filled with a lot of blacked-out paragraphs. Technically even I’m not allowed to see my own file, but come on. There are few doors I can’t get through. If you can’t pick it, bribe someone. That’s my motto.

“I worked in law enforcement,” I said. It took a huge stretch of the imagination to include my work under that title, but I managed. Most of what I had wasn’t even close to legal. It wasn’t until I had started considering retirement that I cut a deal and sold my soul for eternal protection from prison.

Killing people for money doesn’t really make friends, I found, but selling the knowledge you gather as you do your work? Priceless.

“Huh,” said Fenris. “You don’t look the sort.”

“To enforce others into the way of the law? Should I be offended?” I asked with a uneasy chuckle as we reached the stables.

“You look more the sort to make your own law. I knew many, back in Tevinter.”

I didn’t know the country, but that explained the accent. I gratefully broke the conversation to show him how to put the horses into their stalls.

 

* * *

 

I called a staff meeting, Fenris excluded, down at the second stables. They were smaller and closer to the house, meant for a pregnant mare or quarantine, so they hadn’t been used since Ella had brought her new horse from overseas last year. Andy sat down on a on a bale of mouldy hay with his legs crossed, eyeing off Isabela in a manner that would make a weaker man jealous. Merrill rolled her eyes at them both.

“What’s this about, Nat?”

“It’s about that guy who was here yesterday.”

“Yes. He’s staying.”

“What?” was the general exclamation.

“Do you even know his last name?” asked Andy.

“Does he even have a last name?” added Isabela.

“I don’t like it,” decided Merrill.

“If you have genuine concerns about him as a fellow employee I am willing to listen to him.” I emphasised the word ‘genuine’ and gave them all a hard stare. “But there’s some rules. Don’t be nasty to him.”

“What? Me?” asked Isabela. “I would never.”

“And dial it down on the flirting.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I mean it. Both of you.” Andy and Isabela looked close to contrite for half a second. “Don’t touch him. Don’t tease him. He’s staying at the house, so it’s off limits to you guys until he gets his bearings.”

“Treat him like he’s made of china, you mean,” said Merrill. Andy scowled.

“He looked like he could take care of himself.”

“I’m sure he can,” I said. I remembered how Fenris looked with the shovel. Shirtless. Those tattoos… I focused on remembering the shovel, and not wanting to see any of my friends hacked into pieces.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Isabela. “We’re all very grateful to you for your help in our lives, but must you add another sheep to the fold?”

“Looked more like a wolf,” muttered Andy. “Should he really be around the students?” he added.

“What, don’t think you can’t keep an eye on him?” I smirked. I’d already called Don to run a check on Fenris. Nothing had popped up in that cursory check, which it would have done if it was something that meant I should keep him away from the kids. Fenris was in the clear as far as I was concerned. It’s not as though I could go throwing the first stone.

“You’re going back to uni and Anders is going to return to the clinic.” The man in question looked startled at that, and I continued determinedly. “So unless Isabela is about to start putting in more effort around here I do need another worker.” I honestly didn’t care if Fenris sat on the pile of actual hay that I fed to the horses reading all day. I wasn’t about to chuck him out.

“That’s not the biggest lie I’ve ever heard,” started Andy.

“But it does come close,” finished Isabela. I wondered if I should revise my thoughts about them definitely not sleeping together.

“And don’t comment on his clothes. Or his hair. Or his tattoos.”

“Are we allowed to speak to him, boss?” asked Isabela. “Or perhaps you’re just going a bit overboard.”

They all knew I had a protective streak and could never say no to someone who needed a hand.

“Just… Be nice,” I relented.

“When are we not nice? Tell him, Andy. We’re always nice.”

 

We went up to the actual stable where Fenris was raking the breezeway flat while a couple of the agisters looked after their horses. I didn’t have to talk to them about how to treat Fenris. They probably didn’t even notice he was new. They just paid me money and flitted through, neither things bothered me much.

Seeing that Fenris still had half the length of the stables to finish I left the rest to their jobs and went into my office.

I stopped. I stared. I turned on my heel to stumble out, and then slowly rotated to look back over everything.

“Guys?” I called. I tried hard to keep the panic out of my voice.

“If it’s a snake again I vote not me!” called Isabela from the tack room.

“My office is clean!” The panic was definitely in my voice. I backed away from my desk. “Why is my office clean?”

“I cleaned it,” said Fenris.

That voice.

I wanted that voice breathing into my ear, whispering heated suggestions.

Or recipes.

That voice could probably get me off reading a book on economics.

With some difficulty I focused on the issue at hand.

“Why did you clean my office?”

“You told me to work, and it was a mess.”

Mess was an understatement. Stables are dusty places. My office had once been a stall. It was now fully enclosed, but every surface was still generally covered in brown. Added to that, I was not what one would call an organised person. There was paper strewn about with notes about lessons and payments and food orders. Finding the phone each time it rung was usually a small adventure involving a lot of digging.

“I stacked all the paper,” he said, and I could see that he had, in order by size of paper.

In the centre of the desk was the appointments dairy. I had almost forgotten what it looked like.

“I didn’t throw anything away. I didn’t know what was important or not.”

“Well. Uh. Thank you.”

I picked up the first piece of paper. It was a food order from three months ago.

“Have you done this sort of thing before?”

“Cleaning?”

“Secretarial work.”

“No, never.”

“Huh. Well, thank you.”

He nearly smirked. Well, scowled, but there was an attempt at a smirk there.

Probably.


	3. Chapter 3

My eating habits were more of a vague concept than anything by the clock. Breakfast was dull and dry, lunch was had on the run, dinner was had between lessons or right before bed. Andy liked to joke that he ate better than I did even when he was a vet working 16 hours a day 7 days a week. It was a dull joke, but it was probably true.

My mother complained. Mum liked complaining about a lot of things. With things as they were, she was overprotective and I couldn’t blame her that. So once a week, every Thursday, I went to her house for dinner, and then I returned home laden with leftovers.

Fenris had arrived at the stables on Tuesday, Tuesday night had been the shovel night, Wednesday he cleaned my office and on Thursday morning I realised that either I’d have to leave him alone or take him to dinner.

I wasn’t thrilled about either prospect. I wasn’t sure that he would be, either.

He hadn’t slept well, again, and so neither had I. Batman had spent the night with Fenris, and had taken to following the man closely on his heels. It was disconcerting for all of us. I’d had Batman for years. He was my second shadow, and Fenris generally looked startled by his own, let alone a living beast at his side.

“He’s an interesting dog,” he said, almost broaching the subject.

“He’s a traitor,” I scowled at the dog, who wagged his tail. “Bastard.” He wagged it harder. Fenris looked about to apologise. “He’s a trained attack dog, and more intelligent than he has any right to be. I don’t mind him following you around, if it means you’ll leave my shovels alone.”

I had the good grace to look abashed at the teasing.

“An attack dog?”

“He was my brother’s,” I said. “Carver. A police dog, and when,” I swallowed. “Anyway, Batman wouldn’t listen to anyone, and when it was decided he wasn’t fit for the force I adopted him.”

Fenris nodded, taking the new piece of information about me and offering nothing in return.

“Aren’t they meant to be suspicious of strangers?”

“Maybe you’re just not very strange.”

Fenris raised one dark eyebrow at me. Perhaps he bleached his hair, but the roots were perfectly pale and I couldn’t imagine Fenris bothering with that kind of thing. Curious.

“He attacks on command?”

“We had a rustler around here a couple years ago. Batman here chased them up the hill to the house and then stood in the gate so the horses couldn’t escape, and I rounded up the would-be thieves and threatened them into leaving Kirkwall.” I shrugged. Just another day in the life of Nat Hawke.

“It seems you’ve led an interesting life.”

That statement was enough to make me uncomfortable. Interesting or not there were a lot of things I just didn’t like talking about, and I didn’t know how Fenris would respond. I’m not a coward. It’s entirely reasonable to be a little nervous about telling someone that you used to kill for money. I had no idea what Fenris’ previous life was. For all I knew he was on the run from assassins like me.

“I’ve got a dinner tonight,” I blurted.

“Oh. I can.” He gathered himself together. “I’ll stay in my room.”

“No, I mean. It’s at my mother’s. I’m telling you because you can come, if you like. You don’t have to.” I held up my hands, palms out. “Absolutely no pressure.”

Fenris considered. “Will it just be your mother?”

“My sister will be there. Bethany. Andy and the others will probably be there. I never know, but it’s usually a full house. You don’t have to, but you’ll be home with just Batman. I wanted to offer. And you don’t have to say yes or no right now,” I said, seeing him hesitate. “It’s no skin off my nose either way.”

“I think I’d rather not,” he said, his voice dragging out the words, eyes flicking at me and then darting away in fear of my reaction.

“Sure,” I said lightly, feeling slightly hurt but knowing I wasn’t at all justified. “That’s fine.”

 

I left him with instructions on how to use the DVD player and the hope that he didn’t starve. I decided to do my best to bring back food from my mother’s.

Mum didn’t cook.Dad had always done most of the cooking. She tried. Oh, how she tried. She could do cookies, and a passable cake, but in the end even I was a better cook than her. For everything else there was Orana. She was a cute girl I loathed to describe as quirky but there really was no other word for her. She got along with Merrill like a house on fire, which meant that the rest of us went scampering the moment the two of them saw each other across a room. There was too much energy between them to be safe, and Maker forbid Isabela be allowed near them.

Orana wasn’t quite the same as Merrill, though. Where Merrill was cheery and constantly optimistic, Orana’s gaze sometimes held a darkness I now recognised in Fenris. Except, Fenris’ was more violent. Orana just looked… sad.

 

I had a terrible habit of rescuing people. It’s not exactly something to lament, but Varric points it out often enough that I’ve found a small piece of shame inside of me about the fact. Orana had been one of those people, caught in a bad situation that I hauled her out of.

It meant that my mother wasn’t alone in her house, which was all I wanted. Before, I’d worried. My uncle, her brother, had been a piece of shit that I’d yelled at multiple times before he’d gotten the message and left us alone for good. I wanted to live with her just to keep her company, but with my old job that had been impossible and with my new one it was just illogical. I needed to be at the stables and the house there was perfectly serviceable.

But mother’s house was a very big house, so I filled it with people as often as I could.

First there was Orana, and then there was Bo and Sandal.

They weren’t so much people that I had helped as they were people I simply couldn’t get rid of. I offered them a place to stay for a few nights between apartments, and then they just… stuck.

I didn’t mind. Bo was good to talk to when I had nothing to say. He could talk the ear off a donkey, really, and most of what he said was about his adopted son. He was relaxing company.

Then there was Anders.

I never knew how to describe Andy.

He’d been in a bad place when I first met him. We both had. I gave him a job and a place to sleep, that place being my bed, an arrangement that lasted longer than it should have. Somehow, though, we’d both made it out the other side without hating each other.

Isabela was attached his side, if she wasn’t with Varric giggling over some smutty story or other.

It was, as I’d predicted, a full house seated around the great round table that had prompted Carver to declare us knights and my mother the Queen of the realm. Sometimes I caught her or Bethany looking at the table with the same emotion on their face that I felt. He’d been a brave, stupid bastard brother and I missed him with all the air in my lungs and the blood of my veins.

The dinner passed as usual: Anders flirted with everyone, Merrill blushed at every insinuation, and Bethany scowled at me if I tried to join in. Sandal kept quiet and Bo tried to engage me in conversation about the stables. He didn’t understand horses but bless him, he tried.

I was busy flirting with Andy and dodging jibes from my sister when my mother spoke. I hadn’t been paying attention to that conversation between her, Isabela, Aveline and her husband.

Donnic was a good man. I liked him, and almost considered him a friend in his own right, rather than just the husband of a friend.

“I hear you’ve picked up another stray, Nat.”

“Yup, that’s me,” I quipped, lifting my glass to my lips. “Regular orphanage.”

“And he’s staying in your house.” I frowned at Isabela for sharing that piece of information.

“And I hear he’s pretty,” said Bethany.

“Very pretty,” said Isabela with a sly look at me.

“I’m just helping him,” I protested.

“And we’re all very grateful for your help,” said Bo, looking proud. Orana smiled at me. “If it weren’t for your son here, I’d be out on my own without any idea what to do.”

“I needed another hand,” I continued. “Andy’s decided to go back to practising.”

The man spluttered, and Isabela jumped in.

“No you don’t, honey. You can’t get out of this conversation that easily.”

“Where is he?” asked Mum. “I want to meet this man who is staying with you.”

She glanced at Andy. She knew how our relationship had begun. Everyone did. If people seemed about to forget Anders took it upon himself to remind them. Bastard, but he only ever said good things.

“It’s nothing like that. Why does everyone always thinks it’s like that? You’re my mother, you should have a higher opinion of me.”

“I have a very high opinion of you,” she said. “That’s why I think anyone who doesn’t jump you is shooting themselves in the foot.”

I gaped with mock drama. “He just needed a place to stay. I invited him to dinner, but he said he didn’t want to intrude,” I finished in an indignant huff.

“We are a bit much,” admitted Aveline. The others looked downright affronted at that.

“So you just left him at your house?” asked my mother, startled. “Nat, honey, you know I love you but aren’t you just a little bit too trusting?”

“Batman’s there,” I retorted.

“You do know that Batman is a dog, and not actually the masked vigilante of the night, don’t you?” asked Anders.

“I know you don’t like dogs, but no need to take it out on Batman.”

Pets were a sore point for Andy. His apartment didn’t allow any, and he was locked in the contract for another year. When he’d gotten the place he had other things on his mind, and now he spent half his time trying to convince me to get a cat to satisfy him.

“You’re not getting a cat,” I said.

“Why not? They’re all fluffy and cute, and they’d keep the rats out,” I interrupted with a frown, and he shut up. I felt bad, so I topped up his glass, and he gave me a teasingly grim smile in return.

 

Mum left the topic of Fenris alone until we were both in the kitchen after dinner, the others in the living room fighting over which movie to watch. Aveline, as always, wanted to play cards, and Don, as always, was trying to coax her out of it. Merrill was finishing Isabela’s mousse on the couch between Sandal and Orana, and they were a loud background to the soft clink of glasses and plates as I helped my mother clean up.

“Nat,” she began.

“If this is about Fenris I don’t want to hear it.”

“Are you sure he’s safe? You’ve been through enough trying to help people…”

Isabela was lucky she was still around, and dealing with Andy’s crisis had nearly broken me.

“I think he’s more broken than anything,” I said softly. I remember the way he had moved to peel off the jumper I’d lent him. Payment, indeed. That reminded me, though. “Do you have any of my old things? He didn’t arrive with much and I’m too big to lend him my stuff, now. I’d take him to buy somethings of his own, but I don’t think he’s ready to leave the house just yet.”

Mum touched my arm gently.

“Sure, honey. They’re in the attic. I’ll get Orana to get them down. And you’re taking the leftovers home. If you’re the one left feeding him, he’ll starve.”

 

I had half thought that I’d return home to an angelic looking tattooed man asleep on my couch curled around the dog. I’d hoped Fenris would be relaxed and calm after time spent in a safe place. I’d found plenty of other people in a similar situation.

He wasn’t. He was a tense ball of muscle sitting ready to spring into action, and when he started at my intrusion.

“Just me,” I said, holding up one hand, the other filled with containers of food. There was a bag over my shoulder, filled with clothes. “Did you eat?”

“Yes,” he growled.

I decided he was lying, and decided that the growl, and all the anger behind it wasn’t intended for me.

“Mum gave me leftovers,” I called over my shoulder. “Feel free to eat as much as you like. Did you have a good night?”

“I watched television. You sound a bit like one of the characters.” I glanced at the coffee table where DVD cases were neatly stacked, and laughed.

“What, you think I sound like the English librarian?” I teased, putting on Giles’ voice. “Or perhaps Angel?” I returned to my usual voice. “I learnt to imitate voices a while ago.” I decided to attempt his. “There are only some – holy hell,” I started at the sound of his voice leaving my throat. I decided not to do that again, it was too disconcerting. “Only some that I’m really good at.”

“Did you do theatre work?”

“Acting?” I started. “Not at all. It’s just a hobby.”

“What’s in the bag?”

I’d put it onto the kitchen bench, and he looked it as though it were about to pounce and eat his face.

“Clothes. For you.” I immediately held up my hands against his protests. “I said this wasn’t a charity and you’re completely free to borrow the car to go buy yourself some clothes, but they’re there if you want them.”

“I can’t drive,” he said. I blinked a moment.

“Then I can drive you,” I said in a hurry, trying to hide my startled pause. I didn’t want to press about why a grown man couldn’t drive.

“I,” he hesitated. “Thank you.”

“Ehhh,” I said dismissively. “It’s not a big deal. I’m off to bed.”

“Is the door locked?”

“Yes.”

“Goodnight, then.”

“Sleep well,” I said, meaning sleep, please. Just a little. Just an hour. He needed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at uni so updates might be up less frequently than once a week. 
> 
> Voice therapy is more often undertaken by MtF trans people to feminise the voice. Surgery can also be used to alter the pitch of the voice. For FtMs often the testosterone is enough to change the larynx and thus produce a masculine voice, but FtM trans people will still sometimes spend time training their voice. Part of this is voice imitation.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots of thanks to the people who have commented and kudo'd and are reading.
> 
> Whoops extremely tired and kind of over this particular chapter. Apologies for any grammatical errors and general poor plot formation. 
> 
> A piaffe is a trot that is nice and controlled and done practically in place. Sometimes a disobedient horse will do a piaffe-like movement to get out of going forward.

The office was just as disconcerting on Friday as it had been on Wednesday. Too clean, too dust-free, I was almost glad when Varric came in, tossed a saddle down on the desk scattering papers everywhere, sat down in a chair and put his boots on the desk with two loud thumps.

“Varric,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “Long time no see.”

It had only been four days since I’d seen him, and Varric told me so. “You apparently got up to a lot in that time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied evenly. “What’s with the saddle?”

“Broken tree, not worth the money to fix it.” The saddle was big and heavy with cracked leather along the edges and a shiny smooth surface in the curve of the seat. “Thought you might like it to teach the kids all that boring crap like parts of the saddle.”

“And the boots on my desk?”

Varric looked at his feet as though he had no idea how they got there. Slowly he heaved them off.

“Since when do you care about how clean this place is?”

“Since Fenris cleaned it.”

“Fenris, eh? That’s his name? All I know that he’s pretty and tattooed and has a voice like sex. I want to meet him. Where is he?”

Fenris had proven nifty with his hands so I’d left him in the tack room to finish cleaning the bridles. Without the students around there wasn’t much to do but Fenris seemed antsy the moment he didn’t have a task. I suspected I’d soon see the entire place impeccably clean. After the office he’d cleaned the kitchen in the stables, and it bothered me how blue those bench tops apparently were.

“Later,” I insisted. “I’ve got to work Arishok. Talk to me while I ride?”

“Have you got a competition tomorrow?”

“Yup.”

Arishok was a beast of a horse, a deep red colour and sharply pointed ears that made him look terrifyingly cruel. I got along with him. The others stepped cautiously around him, but him and me, we were friends.

Varric kept his distance while I tacked up.

“What is it today? Jumping?”

“Dressage.”

We both made a face. I liked eventing because I loved cross country, but it meant that I had to keep up my skills in dressage.

“Bloody boring sport,” said Varric. “Nothing worth telling ever happens, except perhaps a horse that stops at I instead of X. Relatedly, did you hear what happened last weekend down at Orlais?”

I shook my head no, and he proceeded to tell me the whole sordid tale of the previous weekend’s competition.

Varric didn’t compete, claiming that Bianca was too pure to be tainted by such a sordid sport. Instead, he kept shares in a number of breeding stallions, loaned a number out to other riders, and knew a lot more about the world that I worked in than I did myself. It was a point of honour, really, that he was a friend who dropped by for social calls. Not many others could hold that claim.

My involvement in what had happened with his brother might have had something to do with that. He was loyal to a fault, and so was I. We weren’t getting rid of each other anytime soon.

Varric kept up his easy chatter all the way through me saddling and riding into the arena, where he leaned on the railing and watched me ride circles. He knew everything about everyone, nosey bugger that he was.

“No,” I called back, focusing on turning a shoulder-in down the long side of the arena. I half-listened to his chatter and paid attention to my riding, Varric breaking through every so often to correct me: “I can see four tracks, not three! You’re holding on, relax the shoulders! My brother could ride better than that!”

Except for those interruptions my concentration slipped away from him so that I didn’t notice when he stopped addressing me until Arishok’s dark red coat was slick with sweat and I was letting him walk slowly to cool down.

“Where are you from? You’ve an interesting accent.”

“Tevinter,” said Fenris. I started at his voice, clear now that Arishok’s hooves were soft thuds in the sand and neither of us were panting.

I wondered who had said his voice was like sex. Isabela, maybe, but sometimes Andy surprised me with how forthright his comments could be.

“The country?”

“Do you know of any other Tevinters?”

“It’s got no extradition, right?”

“…Right,” said Fenris.

Varric studied him hard and long, and then looked at me.

“You keep holding too hard with your inside rein. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Tonight?” Both Fenris and I looked alarmed.

“Poker. Your house this week.”

“Oh, uh,” I looked at Fenris.

“You can join us,” said Varric. “If you play. And aren’t a sore loser.”

“I’m not a sore winner, either.” Varric wasn’t easily impressed, but he did smile at that.

“What do you say, Hawke?”

I shrugged. “Sure, more the merrier.”

 

Poker night had started as part of our ploy to get Aveline and Don together, but she’d been kicked out pretty quickly on the basis that she was a sore loser and Varric always won.

Until Fenris showed up. For all that the subtleties of his emotions being clear on his face he had a brilliant poker face and ripped our pockets clean nearly before we’d realised that we were playing against a master.

“Do you do this every week?” asked Fenris conversationally, as though he weren’t robbing us blind.

“Every second week,” I said.

“The idea is that we go out and get a life on the other weekends,” offered Varric.

“But we don’t.”

“Speak for yourself,” protested Andy.

“Okay, Anders here goes out and has a night on the town,” said Varric. “Nat and I, we’re boring old sods.”

“Too right,” I said with feeling.

“I thought that you and Isabela,” said Fenris, half looking at Anders.

“Hah. Sometimes. Same as Nat and me. Sometimes.” I shook my head at Fenris, trying to relay the fact that what Anders was talking about had happened years ago. Anders turned to Don. “I’m pretty sure Isabela made a pass at Aveline once or twice.”

“And me,” said Don with a rueful smile. “Punched her pretty hard for that.”

“For you or Aveline?”

“Both. I was a bit drunk,” he added apologetically.

“Hey, no judgement from me,” I said. “I’ve punched her once or twice.”

“She hits hard,” said Don, rubbing his jaw through his sideburns at the memory.

There was a sudden flurry as the last card was turned over and we all groaned when Fenris won the round.

“How the hell did you get so bloody good?” groaned Don, leaning back in his seat. “I vote we play something simpler next time. Like Snap! or Go Fish.”

“Giving up already?” asked Anders. “That’s not like you.”

Fenris was looking uncomfortable, perhaps realising that he was a guest and these people didn’t know him well enough for him to win their money. I decided to do something about that.

“I think a short break might be in order. Cake, biscuits?”

“Ice cream,” said Andy, with feeling, running his hand through his long blond hair.

It was very nice hair. Just the right length to grab hold of and pull…

Andy had been easy to bed and easy out of it. He didn’t ask for anything and didn’t expect anything. Isabela was the same, I gathered, though I had never experienced that first hand. I had never thought I’d end up being the kind of guy with an uncomplicated fuck a short phone call away, and wasn’t about to add another person to that list.

“Ice cream, then. Fenris, can you give me a hand?”

It wasn’t subtle but he got up and followed me anyway.

“Are you alright?” I asked, busying myself with the kettle.

“I admit I feel a bit odd. These people, I don’t know them, yet they treat me as if they were my friends.”

I smiled with pride.

“Yeah, they’re like that.”

“I feel rude, and I don’t know why.”

“You’d have to do a lot more than winning to make them dislike you.” I turned, leaning on the bench. “Don likes you.”

“Andy would like to sleep with me,” he said bluntly. He didn’t seem thrilled by the prospect.

“You can. If you want. I mean.” Hell, I thought. “He and I, we’re not together. So if you want to, don’t not on my account.” I gave a lopsided smile at my awkward explanation.

“I don’t want to,” said Fenris. He continued softly, almost to himself. “I don’t know if I could, even if I wanted to.”

Then his eyes met mine, scared that he’d said too much and that I’d push.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” I hastened to say. “About anything. If you want to, you can. To me or Anders or Don or hell, even to my mother. If you want,” I always hesitated to promote psychiatry to people who appeared to actually need it, because a lot of people didn’t like the implication that they were broken and unable to fix themselves. “I have a friend, a professional. You can talk to him, if you’d rather.”

The kettle had boiled and I began making tea for us all.

I had put the milk back in the fridge by the time that Fenris spoke. His voice was soft and gravelly in the silence of the kitchen.

“I get the feeling that you’ve done this sort of thing before.”

I gave a helpless shrug. “When Dad died I looked after Mum. When it was Carver, there was Bethany. Anders has got problems of his own…” I picked up the tea. “Bring the whole container,” I said of the ice cream. “Anders will eat it all.”

 

Don cornered me just before he left, lingering on the porch speaking in a hushed voice.

“After dinner yesterday Aveline checked up on him.”

I was unsurprised by the comment. It was the reason I had declared my intention to walk Don out to his car, rather than my usual goodbye in the doorway.

Both he and Aveline were police, each with a wealth of information at their fingertips that had come in handy more than once.

“On Fenris?” I asked softly. I was unsurprised. Aveline had done the same thing with all of the strays I collected.

“It’s not his real name,” he shifted, looked at the closed doorway. He spoke in a gentle whisper. “Leto. His name is Leto. He was kidnapped years ago. His case is closed. Presumed dead.”

“Oh. Hell.” I rubbed my forehead, as if to ease the passage of that information into my brain. “Does he have family?”

“A sister. No father, his mother died.” His features were sour through his sideburns, I could see even in the dark. “Nat, there’s more. Can we walk?” He was nervous by the proximity of the house, and I was nervous about leaving Fenris alone with Varric and Anders. They could be abrasive without meaning to be, and I was conscious of what Fenris had said about Anders. Andy wasn’t the sort to push where he wasn’t welcome, but sometimes he could be slow at realising that. The garden was an overgrown array of shrubs and lavender bushes, and the cold air was thick with their scent.

“Aveline had to talk to Stannard to get this.” I crinkled my nose sympathetically. From the stories Aveline and Don told we had all grown to hate Meredith Stannard. “Varric told me earlier today what Fenris told him, that he’s from Tevinter. Do you know anything about that place?” I shook my head. The name rang some distant bells, but nothing concrete. “It’s well known for several things,” he paused, and I felt my whole body tense in fearful anticipation of what he was about to say, “one of them being slavery.”

“Are you saying,” of all the things I had imagined, that hadn’t been one of them. “I know that slavery is still a, a thing,” I stuttered. “Andraste keep us… Can I go there and burn them?” My voice was fierce, and I wasn’t sure how much I was joking. “How the hell did he get from there to here? No wonder he’s so jumpy,” Don interrupted.

“Nat, Nat, easy. He’s here, and I think he’s feeling safe. You’re not about to kick him out?”

“Maker, no. I wasn’t before, and now, definitely not. Do you think whoever,” I gritted my teeth and spat out the word, “owned him will come looking for him?”

“I think Fenris thinks so.”

So he’d noticed how Fenris kept checked the doors, the windows, reaching down to pat Batman in between every round of cards.

“What can I do?”

“You can’t do anything. He’s strong, Nat. You can see it. He’s unsettled, but he’s strong.”

I scrubbed roughly at my hair.

“What do you advise?”

“Keep him close. Give him something to do, but don’t tell him what to do. Trust him.”

I felt hopeless. I hated feeling hopeless.

“Thank you for the information.”

“I’ll put out the word, and I’ll let you know if I hear anything. You’re a good man, Nat, but this might be more than you can handle.”

I thought so, too, but I grinned and winked.

“I’ll have you know I can handle quite a lot.”

 

 

“What did Don tell you?”

I’d just put the last thing in the dishwasher, which was a good thing since Fenris’ question startled me and I jumped.

“Don’t play the fool with me,” he warned. He was angry, without nerves. I felt it pulsing off of him, tangling up in his voice. “I saw the way he was looking at me.”

“He told me about Tevinter. About Leto.” He flinched. “I take it you’re not in contact with your sister, else you wouldn’t be here.”

“That’s right,” he gritted out.

“Okay.”

“That’s it? Okay? Don’t you want to know more?”

“Do you want to tell me more?” I was keeping my voice light, almost joking, while Fenris’ was pure aggression. Batman was standing between us, his body tense. The silence stretched. “If you want to talk, you may talk to me, but I do not need to hear anything you do not wish to tell me. What Don told me, I needed to know so that I understand. Batman isn’t going to leave your side. I’ll show you where I keep the rabbit rifle, if you like.”

“It’s in the hall cupboard,” he said. He gave an apologetic smile.

I frowned. “You went snooping.” I didn’t mind, per se, except that there was a lot more in the house than a mere rabbit rifle. He said nothing of those other things, which implied that he had not found them. I tried to pretend that I was relaxed.

“Okay,” I repeated. “I can set up the alarm on the front gate, and Don and Aveline will keep an eye out. In the meantime, you’ve a place here until you want to leave.”

“There’s a catch here.”

“A catch?”

“What do you get out of this arrangement?” he demanded.

“A pretty man who keeps my office clean? I’m not sure what else I could want. Oh!” I snapped my fingers. “I’ve got a dressage competition tomorrow. You can come help me out at that. Arishok seems to like you.”

“I’m too much of a hassle.” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Hardly. You should have met Sebastian.”

“Who was he?”

“He was a prince. I’ll let Varric tell you that story, he’s always better at that kind of thing than me.”

 

* * *

 

Merrill bounded in bright and early, startling both Fenris and I awake. I, with all the grace of an ex-assassin, got my legs caught in the bed sheets and fell on the floor with a loud clump. Merrill danced in and laughed at me.

“Come on, you lazy old fart. I’ll go wake the horses. Come on, come on!”

I groaned and debated the benefits of going back to sleep right there.

“You go on ahead,” I said. “I’ll take the truck.”

“The truck’s broken, we’re taking the float,” she reminded.

“I thought I got the truck fixed,” I said, still on the floor.

“You didn’t.”

“I’m too lazy for my own good,” I groaned. “Alright, alright. I’ll get up. Get out of my room, at least let me keep my dignity.” Merrill giggled and blushed a little.

I disentangled myself and got up, spying Fenris through the doorway. He stood in the kitchen looking slightly bewildered as the whirlwind that was Merrill dashed past.

“You said you have a dressage competition today?” he asked. I wondered what good deed I had done to hear that voice immediately after waking up. Barring Merrill’s interruption.

“Yes. I’m not on until ten but Merrill’s at nine and Halla always takes a while to settle in.”

“What do you need? Should I pack lunch?”

“No, there’s a kitchen there - no. Don’t pack anything. Don’t do anything. Go back to bed. You don’t need to come with us.”

“You said you wanted me to.” I frowned at him.

“I did?”

“Last night.”

“I wasn’t being completely serious. If you want to come there’s room in the car. But you don’t have to. It will be frightfully boring for you. Most of what we do is stand around and gossip.”

“If you would have me there, I am interested in seeing what a dressage competition entails.”

I shrugged. It was no skin off my nose.

“Can Batman come?” he added.

“I’d get told off if I left him at home.”

“By whom?” he asked, startled. I gave a small smile.

“Go help Merrill pack the float. I’ll make us breakfast.”

 

Breakfasted, dressed, with the car packed and the float filled with two bundled up horses carefully plaited, we drove off into the first tendrils of dawn light.

“What will I have to do?” asked Fenris.

I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth to stifle a yawn.

“You have to pass me the coffee,” I said. I was driving carefully on rickety roads, and Fenris managed to pour some coffee from the flask without spilling a drop. “Tack up, keep the horses in hay, shovel off poop and keep Arishok away from small children.”

“Will there be children?”

“Tammy always brings her brood,” I said.

“And Samantha would have had her other one,” said Merrill. “I wonder what they called it. They hoped for a girl. They’ve had three boys,” she added, for Fenris’ benefit.

“And Heather’s grandkids like to come watch,” I finished. “There’ll be a lot of kids. They’re pretty responsible and keep away from the horses, but I like to be careful.”

“Anything else?”

“Not unless Nat forgets his test.”

“Hey!” I said. “I have never forgotten a test. That’s you who always does something stupid.” I half twisted in my seat. “One time she did this beautiful renvers, best renvers I think I’ve ever seen.”

“What’s a renvers?” interrupted Fenris.

“The horse travels sideways so that from the front four tracks can be seen - all four legs, that is. The hindquarters are on the outside.”

“I see,” said Fenris, in a voice that suggested he had no idea.

“So I was standing up by the club rooms with Arianni, and we were both commenting on what a lovely renvers it was, and then the car horn blares and it turned out that she should have been doing a half pass on the other side of the arena.”

“Shush, you,” said Merrill, lightly slapping my arm. In the back seat Fenris looked a little left out. I glanced at him in the rear view mirror, catching his eye, and smiled. “Dennis told me later that I would have gotten a nine for that movement, too.”

“So if anything, you’ll be reading the test out for Merrill, not me,” I grinned. He stared back, immediately alarmed.

“What?”

“You’re allowed callers.”

“Not at Advanced,” said Merrill.

“You’re riding Advanced today?”

“The 5C,” she said.

“Huh. Anyway,” I continued for Fenris’ benefit, “if someone forgets their test or isn’t sure about it they’re allowed to have someone reading the test out from the side of the arena.”

“But you’ve never forgotten a test.”

“You’re not allowed callers in eventing dressage, so I learn them.” I grinned, and he appeared to relax somewhat.

 

When I’d first started out I thought weekend competitions would be much more hectic than they really were. Sure, there was the odd flurry of activity when someone had left their jacket at home or didn’t double check what time they were riding, but on the whole weekend dressage was a lazy affair of hot coffee, a languid lunch and plenty of gossip. I nodded to the man who opened the gate for us and trundled in to park in our usual area.

“I’ll get the horses, you sign us in?” I asked Merrill. She nodded and slipped out of the car. There was fog lurking still along the dewy ground, but the sky was clear of clouds and the air was fresh and still.

Arishok backed out of the float with sure steps. I handed him to Fenris, and neither man nor horse complained. I had owned Arishok for only half a year, and in that time he had quickly gained a reputation for being prickly with everyone, even people he knew. Fenris did not attempt to pet him, and both stood placidly by while Halla tentatively backed down the ramp.

“Give him to me,” I said, holding out my hand for Arishok’s rope. “I’ll take them both for a walk around. Get Halla’s things out. Merrill will want to take her out right away.”

He’d learnt quickly in the few days he had been working for me. I let the horse meander amongst the couple other trucks already there, nodding to familiar faces while the horses got their bearings, while keeping an eye on Fenris. He had opened the back of the car and was pulling out the plastic boxes we’d carefully packed only a couple hours before.

 

 

I dismounted with an energetic kick of my legs, bouncing down onto the ground and grinning at Fenris. He sat on the wheelguard of the truck with his heels propped on the wheel itself, watching us. With a few practiced moves I had my gloves off and the buckles of the saddle girth undone.

“Water?” I asked. Fenris frowned a little and got off his comfortable perch to fetch me my water bottle. I pulled Arishok’s saddle down and handed it to Fenris in exchange for the water.

“Did you watch?” I asked casually, watching him as he leaned over to settle the saddle in the front of the horse float. The ride had felt good, one of our best, and I wanted desperately to talk about it.

“I did,” he said, voice muffled. “I don’t really understand what was difficult about it.”

I let out a small squeak that I quickly strangled.

“Difficult? Difficult?” I cried. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a horse with his stature around corners and bending and his natural trot has a rubbish rhythm…” I gave up. “You’ll understand when you start riding. It’s one thing to make a horse go. It’s another thing entirely to make them go nicely.”

Fenris shrugged, smiling a little.

“What?” I asked, still stinging a little. “What’s funny?”

“You are very passionate about this.”

“It’s my job.”

“If I didn’t meet you as I did I wouldn’t think you did this for a living.” He handed me the grooming box and I set to brushing Arishok.

“Can you do the braids?” I handed him some scissors. “Just snip the bands out, not the hair.”

“How did you get into this line of work?”

“My old job no longer suited me. I always liked kids. Well, I always liked horses, and teaching kids to ride horses is alright.”

“What was your old job?”

Before I could answer there was the sound of hoof beats and a short woman on the ugliest horse in the world smiled at me.

“Saw your test,” she said.

“You out there now?” I asked. She shook her head and dismounted.

Her horse was a washed out brown colour with too-short legs, a too-long back and a head so big and ungainly that it seemed to nearly drag on the ground. He was also the state champion in dressage for his division.

“Nina, this is Fenris. Fenris, this is Nina and her ugly brute Claudius.”

“He’s not ugly,” said Nina, stroking one of Claudius’ donkey-like ears. I still wondered if he was actually a mule. “You messed up the pirouette.”

“He got grounded,” I agreed. The movement was meant to be fluid, but Arishok’s long back and long legs made it difficult for me to keep the movement together. “But the rest felt great! I think I’ve finally got him into a frame that works in a trot and if those half passes weren’t perfect I’ll eat my gloves.” I flourished them for effect. Nina laughed. “How did yours go?”

“A bit rubbish. Hey, Merrill!”

“Hi,” said Merrill, sitting down heavily on the vacated wheel guard, Halla’s reins limp in her hands. The horse stretched her nose out to Arishok, thought better of it, and began nosing at the ground.

“I hate the excuse but I think he’s having a bad day,” Nina continued. “I came to ask if you’d seen the new bridle that Jessie’s got.” I shook my head and began brushing out the now frizzy hair of Arishok’s unbraided mane. Before horses I had never had a group like this. Assassinating people for a living is a lonely job, and what friends I made I could rarely sit down and talk shop with.

“Oh!” said Merrill. “I saw that. It looked fancy.”

“What sort is it?” I asked.

“I didn’t ask her the name,” Nina admitted. “But it’s quite nice. Tailored around the horse’s cheekbones a little better. Thought you might like it for your beast.”

I rubbed Arishok’s wither and he sighed contentedly, ears relaxed and one hind leg resting. Beast indeed.

“He is difficult to fit,” I said. “He’s got a horrid mix as is and even that doesn’t fit properly.”

“How do you know Nat?” asked Nina, directing the question at Fenris. He had been standing by with his hands behind his back, looking very much like a waiting servant. I didn’t like that, but kept the frown off my face.

“I work for him.”

“Oh! I thought you were saying you had too many workers,” she said with a frown at me, ignoring my frantic gestures to try and shut her up. Fenris gave me a startled look.

“Well, yes. Kind of. But Merrill’s going back to school!” I protested. Merrill nodded supportively. “And Andy should be going back to practising and Beth doesn’t have much time anymore so it’s not like he’s sitting around doing nothing.”

“Indeed,” said Fenris.

“He’s a fast learner and he’s good with the horses. Even Arishok likes him.”

“Remember when you first got him?” asked Merrill. “Kicked down half the stable, bolted down the back paddock, wouldn’t lunge, wouldn’t trot.”

“He did such a lovely piaffe,” I said with a dreamy smile as I remembered those days only half a year before. He had been sold to be as a troublesome horse that held a lot of promise, if only someone knew how to make him show it.

“I don’t know if he likes me,” said Fenris steadily. “I think he tolerates me.”

“That’s as close as you’ll get,” said Nina. “I’ve been trying to win him over from the start.” She reached out a hand, which Arishok ignored.

“He works well for Nat,” said Merrill, and I grinned proudly. Half the people I knew had tried him out and given up immediately, but I had fallen in love at first sight.

“You’ve got a good boss,” said Nina to Fenris. “A lot of people would be thrilled to work for Nat.”

“And yet he hired me.” Fenris looked at me thoughtfully, and I did my best to look innocent.

“I best get this one cleaned off. I’ll catch you two later. Good to meet you, Fenris.”

I dragged my eyes way from Fenris’ face with some effort.

“Yup, see you later!” I called belatedly after Nina. “Right, um,” my brain was still behind, lost in Fenris’ eyes. I spun on the spot. “Merrill! Need any help with Halla?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the kudos and comments. I hope the story continues to interest you.

Teaching people to sit on a horse involves a surprising amount of touching. Usually, if the kid was okay with it, I’d take their leg and put it into the right position, readjust their hands and tap their elbows to remind them to keep them in. Fenris was still shying away from my touch, walking around me as though I was a mare with a red ribbon on her tail. It was a little painful, I admit. It was strange to notice how often I touched my friends until there was someone I couldn’t touch. Worse when it was someone I wanted to touch.

Anders would slap me on the back in passing, and Merrill would give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek goodbye. Isabela was unpredictable and near-constant in her physical affections, which was overwhelming until one realised that she wasn’t actually flirting all the time. Well, she was, but she meant nothing by it. It was just her manner. A bit like Zevran.

I stood at a distance from Jasper and described to Fenris how to hold the reins.

“Your legs are all wrong. You need to push your heel down, keeping your toe underneath your knee.”

He tried. I could see him trying, but it’s really very difficult to know what to do at first. That’s why I liked to physically adjust the leg so that they knew how it felt.

“I remember what you look like,” he said. He peered down at his leg as though he could see what was happening from that angle.

“Stand up,” I commanded. His eyebrows shot up. “Stand up. On your toes, arse out of the saddle.”

He did so. The shift in weight forced Jasper to stop resting one hind leg, but Fenris didn’t waver at the movement.

“Keep your shoulders up, chin up, eyes forward. The horse’s neck shan’t fall off if you stop staring at it.”

Usually that elicited a nervous chuckle, but Fenris merely obeyed. Meekly. Like a slave. I forced my voice to be lighter and less commanding.

“Now, push your heels down and back as far as they can go without you falling over.”

“Down and back?” he asked a little nervously. Jasper was a tall horse. I understood the fear of falling. “I think you’ll find that’s impossible.”

“I could be wrong, it has been known to happen, but I do think you have hinges in your knees. Breathe in, relax, and shove them back.”

“I feel like I’m kicking him in the belly.” I glanced at Jasper, who had his eyes half shut, ignoring us completely in favour of sleep. He was both parts docile and intelligent and he knew just how to behave. I could put a five year old on him, and it would all be well, but I could get on him and he’d act all the world like an eventer in his prime again. He could feel Fenris’ nerves and kept on placidly dozing.

I examined Fenris’ legs critically. “Keep them in that position and sit down.”

He sat down as though the saddle were made of eggshells.

“Fists closed, thumbs on top, like I showed you.”

“Why are you teaching me this?”

“Because riding’s fun,” I grinned.

“You have better things to fill your day, surely.”

“Better things than introducing you to the greatest sport on earth?”

“It seems awkward and dull so far.”

“Well of course it is,” I said in a lightly scathing voice. “But give it a few weeks and I’ll have you on Aurum galloping across the paddocks.” He looked at me doubtfully. “You have fine balance and your legs haven’t shifted in the time that we’ve been talking. I suspect you’re intelligent enough to master the basics in very short form. Anyway, I want to teach you how to ride. No sense you working here if you’ve never sat on a horse before. I think it will be good for you.” He raised a dark eyebrow. “A kind of therapy, if you will.”

“You want to fix me.”

“I want to help you. And you said you can’t drive. This way if you need you can run away. I recommend Arishok,” I said with a wink. “He’s the fastest. But first, let’s get you walking. Always look where you’re going. If you want to turn left, shift your weight slightly to the left side of your saddle,” Fenris shifted, and I grinned up at him. “Exactly! And the same to the right…” Jasper shifted his weight to accommodate Fenris’ movements in the saddle.

“I thought the reins were for that kind of thing.” Looking up at him on the horse was nearly too much; I couldn’t stand the way his voice sounded.

“Yes,” I promised, focusing on the lesson. Men on horses always did something to me. “But too many new riders use their reins to hold on, so I’ll let you use them later. Nudge him with your heels like we practiced,” he tried, and Jasper obediently moved off. “Now, look at a point and he’ll walk – exactly!” Jasper, true to form, began walking towards the point that Fenris was looking at, coming to a slow stop when he reached it.

“That’s remarkable,” said Fenris. I grinned up at him.

I saw Varric with his horse standing in the yard beyond the arena, and said, “Keep doing that. Try looking at your boot to go in a circle.”

I left him to it and went to talk to Varric. The short man had a very tall horse. Bianca put her ears back at the sight of me.

“He sits well,” he said. It was disconcerting to have to look up so high to meet Varric’s eyes. “And he looks like he’s enjoying it. How was the dressage?”

“Came second in the Medium four-one,” I said proudly. I’d had Arishok for only a few months, and it was remarkable that we were working so well together already.

“Could be worse,” said Varric. “He could have thrown you.”

“Touch wood,” I said. “Hasn’t happened yet.”

“He’d probably think such misbehaviour was beneath him. I take it you’re not going to join me for a run in the forest?” asked Varric.

“I don’t think Fen is up for it.”

“Fen?” he raised an eyebrow, and I blithely met his gaze. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Nat.”

“I don’t, really.”

“Andy made a pass at him last night.”

“I’m not surprised,” I said, surprised by Varric mentioning such a mundane event.

The story with me and Anders is this: I knew him before he worked for me. Back in the day, he was the small animal vet at the same place my horse vet worked at. We weren’t exactly friends, but we were friendly. Everything went to pieces in his life around the same time that Carver died. Neither of us were quite ourselves, and for some reason that meant he appeared on my doorstep, begging for a job.

Within five minutes, I had him pressed up against a wall and my hand down his pants.

Within ten, we’d managed to make it to the house, and I had him pressed into the mattress, with no pants in sight.

No one had to explain Andy’s reputation to me. I knew it. I was part of it.

“I only felt the need to share such a boring fact with you because Fenris refused him,” said Varric.

“Is that ruining your story of my life, the handsome stranger refused Anders? Whatever will your next chapter hold now?” I teased, and Varric grunted.

“So you have noticed he’s handsome, at least. What’s his story?”

“Nothing I know, and nothing I’d share even if I did.” Varric made a small noise of displeasure, but didn’t press. “Kick him a bit harder!” I called to Fenris. “He’s a lazy arse who’ll do as little work as you’ll let him get away with!”

We watched Fenris take a few more steps. Varric spoke.

“Is Anders really going back to being a doctor? I only ask because I know a guy.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I laughed. We watched as Fenris got Jasper trapped in a corner. The black horse stood there a bit sadly before finally responding to Fenris’ weight in the saddle and plodding his way out of it. I probably could trust him with the reins. He probably had better balance than even me, but I liked to instill in the kids how important it was to sit properly in the saddle. I was doing no harm by teaching Fenris the same lesson. “You talk to the guy, I’ll talk to Anders, together we’ll make people call him ‘Doctor’ again?”

“Precisely.”

 

* * *

 

Fenris was walking funny the next day. I knew that would happen, and had planned to resist making a joke but one spilled out of my mouth without warning.

He glared at me and sat gingerly down in front of the array of food I had, once again, prepared. He was wearing an old green sweater of mine. It fit him snugly, and it had been too long since I had really appreciated the visuals of a breakfast companion like I did Fenris.

He had such perfect lips. I didn’t think that in a crude manner. Some people have lips because they’re a necessity, but when the Maker made Fenris he had really put some effort in. His lips were art.

I was busy enjoying my good fortune at being able to admire those lips when Anders burst through the door.

“It’s your day off,” I said. He ignored me in favour of sitting down. “You didn’t knock.” He had a very stern expression on his face, prompting me to set my toast back down and take a swallow of juice. Sundays were days with less work, so I didn’t have coffee.

Ghastly stuff. I didn’t understand anyone who willingly drank coffee. Fenris was drinking it. I bet he’d taste like coffee, too, but probably I wouldn’t mind it if I were tasting it from him.

Anders, again, broke through my happy hazy Sunday-morning thoughts.

“What’s this I hear about a new practice opening up and them needing a new vet?”

“I take it you’ve spoken to Varric.”

“He woke me up at the crack of dawn.” That sounded like Varric, who kept such erratic waking hours. “Dragged me out of bed and told me that you wanted to see me because you were going to fire me.” Fenris leaned back, preparing his aching muscles to leave the table. Andy’s hand snatched out and grabbed him tightly by the sleeve. “Stay.”

“I’d rather not be witness to murder,” said Fenris faintly, but he remained sitting.

“Why are you so hell-bent on me going back to practising?”

“Because you’re good at it,” I said.

“You’re good a lot of things, but I notice that instead you’re here yelling at kids to keep their heels down.”

“And you loiter and eat all my ice cream whining about cats,” I countered. “We’ve all got a past. I just think you shouldn’t run from yours. How about we strike a deal?”

“I thought you didn’t deal with the likes of me.”

I flinched. I’d made that statement in a heated argument. Anders had been about to do something stupid, again, and I was trying to talk him out of it so that I didn’t have to save him from it, again.

I’d probably called him a demon. Nothing major.

“I’ll make an exception, just this once. You stick it out for a month. One month. If it doesn’t work out you’ll have a job here.”

“That’s a shitty deal. I get nothing I didn’t already have.”

“You stick it out,” I continued, “I’ll give you Feynriel.”

Andy stared. So did Fenris, but he didn’t understand the same as Andy did. Feynriel was a brilliant horse, a sure-footed eventer that ran fast and jumped true. I had bought him as a second to Arishok, and he was worth a lot of money. After the lawsuit that prompted Andy into giving up veterinary he didn’t have that kind of money to spend on anything.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” I repeated.

He shook his head in disbelief, and said slowly, “A month.”

“One month.” Andy held out his hand to shake on the deal, then pulled it back.

“I want you to let me have a cat, too.” I laughed.

“If it’s a ratter and desexed, I’ll allow it.”

We shook on it, and then Anders scarpered with my toast.

 

 

“Why doesn’t he practice anymore?”

Fenris and I were trudging up a hill to find Nancy and Puffin. The wind was bitterly cold.

“A kid’s pet died. The autoclave was busted, there was a lawsuit, a lot of issues, and he decided it was easier to just quit.”

I tried to bury my hands deeper into my pockets.

“I’m beginning to learn that running away doesn’t solve any problems.”

“Good for you,” I said. I had the brilliant skill of being able to say such things without sounding sarcastic. “Anders isn’t even close to that realisation.”

“So you decided to meddle in his affairs.”

“Varric decided. I just go where I’m told.”

“Varric said you’re good.”

“Don’t,” I warned.

“What things did he mean, exactly?” he pressed.

I sighed. I knew about him, about him being a slave, about Tevinter and his sister. My history had allowed me to fill in the gaps in his story. But he didn’t know my history to realised how much I had managed guessed about his life.

“Carver, my brother, was a cop. Aveline was married before Don, and Wesley was… Not a cop.” I licked my lips and came to a standstill at the top of the rise. Puffin and Nancy were grazing down below by the dam.

“I met Wesley first, through my previous line of work. He was secret service, I was…” I didn’t know how to put what I was into words. I did what people asked when they asked. I slipped between the cracks and made friends and went where no one else wanted to doing things they all found too distasteful.

“I was a jack of all trades, messenger boy, secretary, state official, and I was good at it. Really good at it. That’s how I met Aveline, and Don.”

Fenris was quiet for a while. I didn’t exactly look the part, especially now with a beanie pulled over my hair and my nose red from the freezing air.

“And then your brother died?”

“Exactly.”

I started down the hill, hugging my arms around me. I pretended it was for the cold, and stumbled to a stop when I felt Fenris’ hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I cannot imagine what it must be like to lose your family. I cannot remember mine.”

I desperately wanted to know, but I didn’t think he was ready.

“Sorry for what? I got enough money to buy my grandparent’s place back, and here I am.” I didn’t meet his eye, though, and his hand was comforting on my shoulder. The contact didn’t last long.

“I cannot complain about my life while you are standing here,” I said, when his hand had disappeared from my shoulder and there was an arm’s length between us. When it was clear he would say nothing, I gave a small smile. “It’s not all bad. Pretty man, pretty land, what more could I want?”

He didn’t answer that, which I was glad for. There was a lot more I could want. My brother, for one. 

 

* * *

 

Merrill was always surprising.

The face tattoos, for a start. They were more than a bit disconcerting, but then to talk to her you discovered that she was shy and bookish, and mostly kept to herself. So then you decided that she was quiet, and dismissed her. Your opinion about her would stay that way until the moment you broached a topic that she knew about. And Merrill knew a lot of things, and she had a lot of opinions, and she always had all of the facts for both sides of the story.

She was graceful and beautiful, and laughed easily and was always happy.

Then there was her horse, Halla.

Halla was pure white and as big and as tall as Bianca. They were a ferocious pair, and if pressed to describe what the team looked like I could only honestly use one word: terrifying.

Yet Halla was just like her owner. She was sweet and gentle, and I never worried about the students being around her.

I leaned on the arena railing watching the two working around in circles. Isabela reclined next to me. I wasn’t sure where the others were, somewhere warm, probably. Winter was coming in good and hard that year, and I was glad for the fact that my grandparents had been rich enough to afford an indoor arena.

Hopefully Fenris was having the bath I’d recommended to him. His muscles would be aching from the lesson I’d given him. Horse riding. Nothing crude. If only.

“Sit up a bit more!” I called. “You’re hunching your shoulders and she’s struggling - there you go!”

“We should get drunk,” said Isabela. “It’s been ages.”

“It’s been a week,” I said. “Last week at my place.”

“Yeah, but we can’t do that now, can we?” she said. “What with your pretty boy.”

“Bela,” I warned.

“Anyway, I meant we should go out drinking.”

“I hate going out.” Louder, I called, “Change reins and do that again on the right leg. You need to feel her sit down beneath her when you ask. Steady her with a half-halt before the corner and try it again.”

“We could go to Varric’s.”

By Varric’s, Isabela didn’t mean Varric’s actual house. None of us knew where that was. If we wanted to find him we went to The Hanged Man, a morbidly named pub that Isabela had discovered first, as she liked to claim. The barman always gave her a nod and the regulars would sidle out of her path, so probably it was true. Varric could actually live there, for all we knew. He kept his horses scattered around, Bianca on my property.

“I’ve still got Fenris,” I reminded. “Let her shake it out down the long side,” I continued at Merrill, “That looked better. Did that feel better?” There was a rush of air as Halla cantered past.

“It did!” Merrill yelled back. “It felt really good.”

“Do it again and then try again on the left.”

“He’s not a child,” said Isabela. “He looks more than capable of looking after himself.”

I hunched down, elbows on the rail and chin in my hands. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe Isabela.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving him.”

“Then we could drink at your house.”

“He’s living there. I can’t do that to him. At least give him a week,” I said added firmly.

Isabela slouched.

“Fine.” She added, “if me and Andy end up drunk at Varric’s without you, you only have yourself to blame.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that this *is* a WIP. I have 13 chapters currently written. It's not finished at the end of those 13 chapters. The total number of chapters up there is more of a guide than any kind of real figure. This also isn't beta'd. If there are spelling errors or grammatical problems I'd be grateful if you could point them out. As always, thank you so much for reading, and any questions or comments are absolutely welcome.

“That horse,” Fenris’ voice was loud and clear through the stables, “is a monster.”

I only had a moment to wonder who he meant when Anders piped up. “Fey is a bit aggressive, that’s all. He’s a good horse.”

“He shouldn’t be around when the students are here. He’s scarcely short of demonic.”

That sounded a bit rough, even if it could be true. Feynriel, I had decided, and only been half broken in, or possibly only half-gelded. Either way, he was often moody and occasionally unpredictable, as though he’d never learnt the proper way to behave.

I decided to poke my head out. “What’s up?”

“Feynriel tried to bite me,” grouched Fenris.

“But he didn’t, and I think that’s an important distinction that we should all take note of,” said Anders.

Isabela took that moment to ride into the stable at a fast trot, leaping off before the horse had stopped moving. I’d told her off for that more than once and she never listened. At least there weren’t any students around to take heed of her bad example.

“I think Feynriel is a sweetie,” she said, undoing a glove to assess the state of her hair.

“Of course you do,” muttered Fenris.

“And what’s that meant to mean, exactly?” asked Isabela indignantly.

I looked at my watch. The first student would be here in thirty minutes, which meant that Merrill would arrive fresh from uni in the next ten. Just enough time -

“Maker forbid anyone try to talk any common sense into you!”

\- for a fight to start.

“Excuse me?” she cried.

“That horse should be out in his paddock before any of the students get here,” snarled Fenris.

“Since when do you give orders around here?” asked Isabela.

“Just because you’re Nat’s little bitch doesn’t mean you’re the boss. You take orders, you don’t give them.”

“Isabela!” my voice boomed down the breezeway, startling several of the horses. I reached out a hand to Lady Elegant to steady her, and she got over her fright in order to investigate my hand for a treat. “You are not allowed to speak like that.”

“And you’ll let him speak like that?” She shook her head aggressively. “I’ll not have strangers walking in here and ordering me around.”

“He has as much right to tell you what to do as Anders or Merrill.” Fenris was almost cowering. I wanted to reach out to steady him like I could the horses.

Isabela was having none of it.

“He can’t even ride a horse.”

I gritted my teeth.

“Isabela, you will apologise.”

“For what? We’ve never complained when you picked up strays, but at least they knew their place.”

I could see Fenris shaking in the corner of my eye, but I didn’t know if it was from rage or nerves. I did notice that his hand was on Batman’s head.

“You will leave my property right now.”

There was a shocked silence, then Isabela snorted.

“You have lessons, you need me here.” Merrill had called off, and while usually I’d call in my sister to pick up the slack I had thought with three people I wouldn’t need her.

“With your attitude?” I sneered. “I don’t think so. I will speak to you tomorrow, when you’ve cooled down.”

She cast around at Anders for help, who looked away, unwilling to get involved. Enraged, she struggled a moment with her second glove before tossing them both to the ground and stalking past me with a snarl.

“Anders,” I began, ready to yell at him too, but he had already turned to Fenris.

“Fenris, I apologise. My behaviour was inappropriate.”

Fenris still looked tense, ready to strike out. He took several moments to gather himself. I did the same, not sure what was about to happen.

“I should not have taken offence so easily,” he said stiffly. He glanced at me. “I am sorry.”

I visibly relaxed, and Anders said, “Do you want a hand with Naishe?” Naishe, Isabela’s horse, stood by serenely ignorant of the whole affair.

Again, Fenris looked at me. I wasn’t sure what kind of look it was, if he was wanting guidance or waiting for me to discipline him. “I think I’ll manage, so long as you look after Feynriel.”

“Will you two manage tonight without me?” I asked. “Anders, you’ll have to take Isabela’s classes. I think she was going to start them over trot poles tonight.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Will you cope with the kids without Anders?” I asked Fenris.

“I,” he hesitated. When I continued waiting patiently he frowned at some unspoken thought, and then nodded. “Certainly, I think I can manage.”

 

* * *

 

Talking with Isabela wasn’t fun. I still remembered that sour taste in my mouth when I’d had to confront her about taking Carver’s ring, and it boiled up again the moment she stepped into my office.

She looked sullen, same as she had that day.

“Your behaviour yesterday was inexcusable,” I began, and she immediately interrupted.

“I can’t deal with some stranger coming in putting on airs.” Isabela waved her hands as she spoke, as she always did.

“He wasn’t, and you know it. Feynriel isn’t allowed in the stable when the students are here.” I wasn’t sure if anyone had actually explained that rule to Fenris, but like Arishok, Feynriel liked to throw his weight around. Neither horse was allowed around the students. “Nothing he said was improper.”

“It was the manner he spoke. Giving orders like that.”

“He was merely repeating a rule that both you and Andy are well aware of.”

“You’re taking his side?”

“You told him that he has no right giving orders.”

“He doesn’t!”

“Isabela,” I growled. Usually my growl was a source of friendly teasing from her for how sexual it sounded. That day she only curled her lip. It was an intense staring match for several moments. She blinked first.

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t sound it, but merely her managing to force out the words was enough for me.

“I want you to apologise to Fenris. He’s been through enough, he doesn’t need you beating him up.”

She looked relieved to not be fired, and I was damn glad that her face looked like that. I wanted her to feel guilty. Even with her apology I felt aggressively angry about any slander against Fenris.

“I will,” she promised.

 

 

“Hey, Andy, are you going to Leandra’s for dinner?”

Thursday.

Of course it was Thursday.

The week had been hectic, riding horses, training Arishok, teaching Fenris… One of the fences down the west side had gone down, which had killed half a day as I tried to fix it. Fenris had been completely unhelpful, a fact that Isabela had gleefully pointed out. I was tired and ready to sleep, and actually had my head down on the desk in the office. With the door open as it always was I could hear the conversation in the kitchen loud and clear. Nothing was a secret in the stables.

“I was planning on it. Leandra texted me earlier to make sure. Said there’s going to be lemon tart.”

“Ohhh,” said Merrill. “I can’t wait.” Isabela laughed.

“I will be there with bells on. What about you, Fenris?” I tensed. “Are you coming?”

“I,” he sounded as taken aback as I felt. “I hadn’t considered it.”

“Consider it, honey-bear.” Isabela called only precious few people honey-bear. She called everyone and their mother kitten, but honey-bear took a little longer to get. It had taken years for me to be put onto that list. I felt almost jealous before I realised that this was her weird version of an apology. I wondered if Fenris realised. “Lemon tart, really?”

“Really,” said Anders’ deep voice.

“Be there, Fenris. You’ll be missing out if you’re not.”

 

* * *

 

A week didn’t seem enough time to prepare Fenris for the chaos that was dinner at my mother’s house, but he’d survived poker night. He’d survived Isabela and Anders, and Varric, and really, my mother was a dear compared to all of that.

I’d forgotten about the others.

Well, I’d forgotten about Sandal, and I hadn’t thought that Orana would prove to be a problem. I hadn’t met anyone who didn’t love Orana immediately.

Sandal just took a little getting used to. He was friendly and easy to get along with, but it was always bewildering to be faced with someone like Sandal when you weren’t prepared for it. Bo was aware of that, and he was vehemently protective of his adopted son.

They greeted us at the door.

“You have white hair,” said Sandal. Fenris looked at him, looked at Sandal’s father, and reached up a hand touched his own hair.

“Yes. I do.”

“Hawke’s Mum has white hair.”

“Leandra’s is a little more grey than white,” said Bo.

Fenris looked at me for help.

Seeing the look, Bo said, “Come on, Sandal. I bet there’s some mango juice.”

“Mango juice!” said Sandal excitedly.

Orana was waiting by the doorway between the foyer and the living room, ready to take our coats. I handed mine over easily, being used to it. Fenris did not.

“I can hang it up myself,” he said.

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “I can do it.”

“I’m not helpless,” he hissed.

He clutched his coat close to him, huddling in on himself as though he could somehow disappear. I realised what the problem was.

“Orana works for my mother. She’s paid for it.” I said it softly. “She’ll probably be joining us for dinner tonight, too. Isn’t that right, Mum?”

Mother looked at me with confusion. “Orana often joins us for dinner. No sense her eating alone.”

“Is that alright, Fenris?”

His eyes flashed at my question and I wondered what unmarked line I had crossed. I leaned back, away from him. Slowly he unfolded, relented, and handed over his coat. Orana looked relieved about the resolution of a conflict she didn’t understand. Fenris watched her suspiciously.

“Nat, darling!”said my mother, kissing me on both cheeks. “So good to see you! And this must be Fenris. I’ve heard all about you.” She reached out a hand, but when he did not move closer she let it drop.

“From who?” I asked in alarm. “Is Isabela already here? Has she been spreading lies?”

“I wouldn’t call them lies,” said Mum, pulling her eyes away from Fenris and smiling widely at me. “And yes, she’s here. Arrived with Anders.” She gave me a concerned motherly frown. “I think they’ve been at the wine.”

“Is that Nat? Tell him to get his butt in here!”

“His fine butt,” giggled a slightly more feminine voice. Fenris raised his eyebrows at me. I felt a desperate need to apologise to him for whatever horrors he was about to endure. “Leandra, did I hear right?” continued Isabela from the living room. “There’s lemon tart?”

“So Orana tells me. Come on, you two,” said Mum to Fenris and I. “Don’t loiter in the doorway.”

Don greeted us from the sidebar as we came into the living room, holding a bottle aloft. “Who drinks? Nat? Fenris, I’m pretty sure you drink.”

Fenris hesitated only a moment, drawing in a deep breath.

“I am amicable to the occasional glass,” he admitted. Don winked at me and pulled Fenris from my side to find a bottle opener and glasses, leaving me with Aveline.

“Have you found anything out?” I asked softly.

“No.”

“Should I try asking down the channels that I have?”

“I’m not an idiot,” said Aveline. “I know you’ve already done that.”

I had, because I wasn’t an idiot. Everyone I’d asked had been surprised the moment I said ‘Tevinter’. No one knew anything.

“I feel like I should be pushing him into therapy.”

We watched him with Don, who was talking animatedly. Fenris was holding a glass and looking slightly less out of place by Don’s side.

“Has he said anything?”

“He knows that I know, that’s it. Isabela called him my little bitch.”

“Hell,” breathed Aveline. “I hope you ripped her apart for that.”

“I did. She apologised, and she invited him tonight.”

“Hawke,” she said seriously. “Be good to him. Don’t break him.”

“Me? I’m not that strong, and if you’d seen his muscles…”

“Hawke.”

“I promise, I promise,” I protested. “It’s the last thing I want, believe me.”

 

Getting drunk was apparently the order of the night.

I didn’t do it often, but it had been a long day and someone had brought the expensive stuff.

Merrill was the first to go, giggling and sliding off her chair at some nonsensical joke that Sandal had told. The boy was about to leap to her assistance when Bo put out his hand to steady him.

“She’s just being silly, Sandal. Like everyone else here. I think it’s time for us to turn in.”

“I think so,” agreed Orana. Merrill, lying on the floor still laughing shot up at that.

“No, Orana, you have to stay, you’re better than all these others. They’re so boring and not even Isabela wears purple lipstick.”

“Nat has purple lipstick,” said Bethany.

“Or had?” added my Mum. I hung my head a little.

“I’m ashamed to say it’s has. I wore it to a pride rally a few years ago.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve worn it since,” said Bethany. Isabela’s eyes lit up.

“I remember Sebastian wearing purple lipstick.”

“Yeah, the bastard stole my other tube,” I complained.

“You had more than one?” I froze.

“I like purple?” I looked at Anders for help, but he was shaking in his chair, hair hanging down over his eyes and hiding his laughing face. “Someone help defend my honour!”

“I think a man with your repertoire could defend himself,” said Aveline. I caught Fenris, not quite as drunk as the rest of us, giving me a long, careful look. I immediately sobered. “You’re on your own,” finished Aveline, but I was scarcely listening.

Of course, lipstick, and then being called a man, meanwhile he wore my clothes that I had once worn, clothes I couldn’t wear anymore because the testosterone I took had allowed me to grow muscles my sister never could.

“I’m going to,” I didn’t have an excuse at my tongue so I just got up and left the room. I stood in the lounge room for a little while – we hadn’t managed to escape from the dinner table, still lingering as we were over the wine and the dessert.

I took several long breaths and went to the kitchen where I downed a glass of water.

Anxiety was, generally, a thing of the past. I had picked up the attitude of ‘fuck the lot of them’ if anyone so much as looked at me funny.

But I liked Fenris. I didn’t want him to not like me, and sometimes that attitude was like heavy armour: it was exhausting to wear all the time, and it took some time to put on.

When there was a movement behind me I expected it to be anyone except for Merrill.

“Are you alright?”

I didn’t know if she knew.

“It was the lipstick, wasn’t it?”

Oh, she knew.

“Fenris is doing his puppy dog eyes because you left. It’s really pathetic, and I think you should kiss it off his face.”

She knew, and she was drunk. Perfect combination for a university student slash employee.

“You do, do you?” I wanted her to go away so I could sulk.

“No one cares, Nat.”

“He might,” I said sullenly, wondering how we got from there to here so quickly. When was it just decided that I wanted in Fenris’ pants? I felt that we’d moved right past the tither of indecision right to the Yes, Nat Wants That.

“Andy didn’t.”

“Anders is a very singular human being.”

“And Fenris isn’t? Give him a chance, he might surprise you. You’re a good person.”

Then, inexplicably, she kissed me right on the lips with her bright red lipstick. Her tattoos were pretty lines curving over her face, and then her fingers were rubbing roughly at my lips. Very drunk.

“Sorry, now you’re all red.” She left me standing there somewhat bewildered. I decided I didn’t understand the youth of the day, especially when they were drunk.

Puppy dog eyes, though. Interesting.

I wanted to see them, so I peeked through the door into the dining room. He was smirking over the rim of his glass while Isabela, life of any party, told a story in which she stole a limo. Isabela liked to forget that two of her friends were officers of the law.

I wasn’t sure that they could properly be called puppy dog eyes. I examined them, trying to figure out what everyone else meant when they said that.

“Honey-bear, why’ve you got lipstick all over you?”

“I’m disappointed it’s not purple,” said Andy. I glanced at Fenris, but his face was suddenly impossible to read.

“I kissed him,” Merrill admitted. “It was just ‘cos, I swear.” She looked at Fenris at that, as though in apology. I could have throttled her for that. Fenris, for his part, looked only mildly amused. Orana looked a little put out of place, which I didn’t understand.

“Oh, honey,” said Isabela.

“I have kissed boys before,” she protested. “I had my first kiss when I was seventeen. His name was Tamlen Sarab. He went a little strange after high school but that’s not my fault.”

“Was it a good kiss?” pried Isabela. Merrill considered for several long moments before answering.

“Not really.”

“Was Nat a good kiss?” Bethany made a little squeak of disapproval.

“He’s my brother, I don’t need to know!”

“Nat’s an excellent kiss,” said Andy, with a wink at me. “And excellent in general. I highly recommend him.”

“Thank you, Anders,” I said dryly. “My mother isn’t present, or anything.”

Anders looked almost apologetic, and then grinned and poured us both some more wine.

“I guess the most important question, Mer, is” said Isabela, leaning forward. “Have you kissed girls before?”

“I,” Merrill squeaked a little, and turned to me for comfort. I almost shrugged, but she was blushing, and across the table from her I could see Orana shifting uncomfortably. I decided that Isabela could stop with that line of questioning before she accidentally put her foot in it.

“Andy, Bela,” I said loudly, “can you help me clean up a little so Mum doesn’t have to deal with such a big mess?”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” said Mum, just as Orana got up.

“Not you,” I said sternly. “Go get some blankets or something. I’m sure as hell not in any state to drive home, which means Fen and I are staying here.”

I just called him Fen. Out loud. I hadn’t asked him if it was okay to call him Fen and here I was blurting it everywhere while my lips were stained with Merrill’s lipstick. “Sorry, Fen,” I added. “Ris. Fenris. Sorry.”

He looked almost amused, but said nothing. My foggy mind decided to count that as a win.

Fenris helped me clear the table and, as we ducked through the doorway together into the kitchen, he leaned close to me. There was still nearly a foot between us, but it was closer than he had been to anyone, except when he had put his hand on my shoulder on Monday. I could feel the heat of his body. The light turned his hair silver.

“Will your mother approve of Merrill and Orana?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” I asked, momentarily confused before I realised. He was concerned for her employment, having not quite grasped the concept of a paid live-in housekeeper-slash-carer. I wasn’t sure if he had quite worked out that he was actually getting paid for working for me, too. I set the dishes down on the bench.

“Mum’ll love it. She just wants everyone to be happy.” I smiled broadly. “I’m sorry that you have to stay here overnight.” There wasn’t Batman. He was in a strange house with strange people without Batman. “Will you be alright?” I asked, the anxiety from earlier in the night bubbling up again into panic for Fenris. This was not what I had intended. “You can sleep,” in Carver’s old room, I was about to say, but my voice caught in my throat. Hell. Fenris didn’t need to see emotional-drunk-Hawke.

“We can drive you home,” said Don, softly, as he came into the kitchen behind us.

I didn’t care one way or the other, except for Fenris.

“Please,” he said. “If it is not too inconvenient.”

“Not at all,” said Don with a wide smile. “Aveline can drive your car, Nat.”

Merrill and Orana had disappeared off up the stairs, and Anders and Isabela both decided they were too drunk to do anything except bully Bethany into watching a movie with them, and opening another bottle of wine. Bethany was only a little older than Merrill, a fact I always forgot. Merrill acted so young; Bethany so old. She got along with my pervy friends scarily well, and they with her.

I would be more than a little worried except that Bethany had grown up with me as a role model yet somehow managed to turn out a prude. I didn’t understand it. She gave me a big hug before I left, an action meant to comfort me. She, more than Carver, more than anyone until Anders, had always noticed when my anxiety returned.

“Are you alright?” she asked, eyes locking on mine.

“Sure,” I said. I felt a little drunk, still, and that made me feel a little morose. “I just need to sleep it off.”

 

“Aveline,” I was resting my head against the side of the car, staring out as the trees rushed past in the dark. Occasionally I could see the light of the city on the clouds in the sky.

“Yes?” she prompted, when I said nothing.

“Do you know?”

“Know what?”

“About me.” It was suddenly imperative that I knew if she knew.

“About Fenris?”

Why the hell did everyone suddenly know I had a thing for Fenris?

“No! How… About me. Before.”

There was a stretched silence. I fiddled with the plastic that bordered the car window.

“Yes, I know.”

I hated the sudden feeling of weakness that permeated my body. It plummeted into my stomach and seeped into my skin. I immediately felt less legitimate, a fake living out a pretence of a life that any moment someone would grab me from.

I had thought that the dysphoria would go away after a while. I always forgot that it came back the more I drank.

“No one cares,” she said, when I had been silent too long. “We all have our burdens. Pieces to who we are. It matters, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s just a thing.”

I always forgot how much I liked Aveline. Terrible flirting techniques aside she had her head screwed on right.

She reached out and touched my knee. “It’s alright, Nat.”

I rocked my head against the side of the car and stared at the trees, thinking of Fenris.

“If you say so.”

 

* * *

 

We were both silent, two mutes going about getting to bed. I felt wrung out and exhausted, and at the same time I didn’t want to sleep. I washed Merrill’s lipstick off my face and boiled the kettle without making tea, and then I said that I was going to go check on the horses.

Fenris fell into step beside me without asking if he could. Batman kept close to our sides as we walked through the overgrown garden, across the paddock and to the stable.

“Merrill says you have puppy dog eyes,” I blurted. He gave me a look that made me want to snatch the words back in immediately.

He pulled open the door to the stables and found the light switch, the yellowy light turning us both into blinking bats.

“Does she now?” he asked mildly.

“I’m very disappointed,” I said. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I haven’t seen these so-called puppy dog eyes once.”

I crossed my arms on top of the stall door and looked over the door at Puffin, who turned his head to gaze at me solemnly before turning back to his hay net. Fenris joined me. The door was wide, but not wide enough for him to keep his distance. I had to only shift a little, I thought, and without realising it I’d slipped in the sawdust and my upper arm was pressed against his.

“Sorry,” I said, leaping back as if he’d burned me. “I don’t.” I shut my eyes and gathered myself. The fact that I had been drinking was very real and present, and I was glad for the firm muscle of his arm and the wooden door to steady me.

People told me I was good at dealing with broken people, but at times like these I never believed them.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Do you think that you could hurt me?” He seemed a little incredulous, and a little tentative.

“I think you’ve got a lot of problems, and don’t need me adding to them.”

“Yet you’ve taken me on as though they are your problems to shoulder.”

“You’re my friend,” I said. “I can help you.”

“Friends? Don’t be a fool.” His eyebrows drew together in a scowl and I was afraid I’d accidentally driven him off. “You’ve known me for a week.”

“Eight days. We met on Wednesday, remember?” I said with a hopeful smile.

He looked away, and my stomach sank. I had lost him. He’d be gone by morning.

“Is that a long time, when it comes to friendships?” I stared at him too long and he pulled back. “You know my history. You know I’ve not had much opportunity for any kind of positive relationship. Everyone here is so nice. You,” he chanced a glance at me, and then his eyes darted away. We both stared at Puffin, who steadily ignored us. “You’re so… I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. You have to want something.”

“Isn’t your company and good looks enough?”

He looked startled, but it wasn’t the first time I’d made such a comment and this time he had a response.

“You’re not bad yourself. But,” he paused. “I have too many problems… I only know about my past because it has been told me, to torture me.” He spoke so candidly that it broke my heart. “These markings, even my name, none of them are mine.”

“Then you will stay here, until you find yourself. If you want to leave, you can leave. The only restriction I place upon you is to understand that I get very angry with people who mess with my friends. And you’re my friend, now.”

A ghost of a smile brushed his lips, and I had to hold the stable door to keep from kissing it. It would ruin everything, to do that now.

“I have nothing. I’m even wearing your clothes.”

I attempted a cheerful grin, the sort Anders would give me when I was feeling down. “Then we’re very good friends.”

“Does none of this bother you?” He was still wary of me, of what I was doing for him.

“I’m,” I faltered. He didn’t know the truth about my past, and I didn’t want to share it just now. “A horse riding instructor with a borrowed voice who doesn’t have everything right in his pants. Shouldn’t that bother you?”

His eyes didn’t flick downwards like so many did when I mentioned that point about my body. Again I wanted to kiss him, but I held strong.

“You have a point. Friends, then?”

“Yes.”


	7. Chapter 7

After our conversation in the stable things settled back to something close to normal.

I offered again to take Fenris shopping. His comment about wearing my clothes had got to me, but when asked he said he wasn’t sure he was ready to go out into a public place just yet.

Well, he’d said, in a very formal voice, “That is not necessary, but thank you for the offer”, and I read between the lines.

Merrill told everyone who would listen and quite a lot of people who wouldn’t about what things she’d been learning at uni, Andy and Isabela got drunk with Varric and told me all about it afterwards. Varric came past to yell at me about my riding, the agisters gossipped and paid me to do mundane tasks that half my students would have done for free.

And Andy went back to being a practising vet. It hadn’t been as simple as getting a job. He’d been out for a while, and there were tests and registrations he had to pass. His response to that was to come to work and then refuse to leave the table in the kitchenette, because he was studying.

My only concern was what would happen when he passed - because he would pass, I didn’t even question that. Despite everything, Andy had a knack for healing. It was in his blood. He wouldn’t be the same Anders I knew if he wasn’t a doctor. But then he’d pass and be gone, which I was happy for.

But with Merrill at school I had Isabela and Fenris to cater to the kids while I taught lessons.

Usually, it was a pretty good structure. The first lessons were for the beginner riders, so usually I was there to help them. Merrill was good at putting the new riders at their ease, and Anders was good at teaching them the important basics.

Isabela was… Not so good. She was just a bit too loud and abrasive for new riders, especially for a tiny eight year old who had never seen a horse before and suddenly had to contend with both Puffin and Isabela. She was good at putting the parents to ease. She wasn’t useless. I didn’t hire people just for the hell of it.

I mean, other than Fenris.

But he was different.

I was worried how he’d work with the kids. Around everyone else he seemed scared and ready to lash out without any warning. He’d been avoiding the kids, too. Or, perhaps not so much avoiding as he just wasn’t needed. Merrill was still managing to get there in time to work, Andy put in a hand and between us Fenris was hardly needed.

The tack shed was impeccably clean, and he’d found the leather halter Sebastian had been working on making and was finishing it off.

I think he felt very conscious of the fact that he was quite out of place around the rest of us, who had been doing this for years. He wanted to pull his weight.

The inevitable happened a week later. Merill officially informed me that she’d have to cut back on hours. Anders submitted his tests and was informed in short order that he was, once again, qualified to practice as a vet.

He grumbled about it a lot, but he took the job.

A week after Fenris and I had our talk in the stables my work force was just the three of us: Isabela, Fenris and me.

I had prepared myself to do most of the heavy lifting early on in the schedule of lessons, but when Batman barked a warning at the first student driving up and I set down my pen in the office to greet them, I was stopped at the door by the sight of Fenris giving both student and mother a warm smile.

“Sophia, is it? I’m Fenris.”

“Say hello,” chided the mother, when Sophia was silent for more than a second. I frowned. I hated parents like that. Horse riding was good sport, but more than that it taught kids how to stand on their own two feet.

Fenris, for his part, ignored her with only the scarcest of frowns marring his carefully constructed poker face.

“You’re riding Cricket today. He’s out in the paddock. Do you want me to come and help you get him?”

Sophia nodded, and Fenris led her to the tack room to get a halter and then took her outside.

“Hey, Levi,” I said with a smile to the mother. Levinia frowned at her daughter disappearing off with a strange man.

“I haven’t met him before.”

“You would have spoken to him on the phone, I believe.” Fenris had taken over answering the phone without any hassle, taking messages that he recited to me word for word later on. “He’s only been working here for a couple weeks.”

“Where’s Andy?”

“He got sick of us all finally and decided to go back to what he’s actually good at. You’ll see him around, though, he’s still got a horse here.”

She looked relieved. Single mothers and their fixation on Anders… It was never surprising and always disturbing.

“I wasn’t aware he was planning on leaving.”

“Neither was he,” I smirked.

 

Fenris was fantastic.

I honestly hadn’t expected it, and all through the afternoon and into the early evening I got to see just how good he was. Not with the parents, though. They got, at best, a scowl. At worst they got a few nasty words when they tried to jump in to instruct their kid on how to saddle their horse. Isabela, to her credit, kept an eye on him, and as the last student got in their car and trundled off down the drive we all collapsed in the kitchen.

“We still have to feed the horses,” reminded Isabela.

“I bought Puffin and Nancy in,” said Fenris. I nodded mutely. I’d done a lot of yelling in that last lesson, and my throat was sore from the bellowing.

“Dinner at your mother’s?”

“Ugh,” I grunted. Driving into town just for dinner sounded like a lot of effort.

“Yes,” said Fenris. We both blinked at him. “Don rang during the second lesson. He wanted to know if I was joining them.”

I distantly reminded myself to thank Don next time I saw him.

Isabela was still standoffish, and neither Andy nor Isabela had been exactly nice to Fenris. It was good that he was making a friend.

“That means I have to shower,” I groaned. “And put on clothes.”

I slumped in the chair.

“I hate my mother.”

“Honey, it’s the only full meal you get all week. I’m surprised Fen hasn’t faded away.”

Fenris scowled. It was a very small scowl, almost polite in its scowliness, but it was a scowl nonetheless. I couldn’t remember such a scowl when I called him ‘Fen’.

Isabela slapped my knee.

“Come on, I have to put on something dashing to make Anders regret leaving us.”

“Try the red dress.”

“With the sparkles? It’s not exactly a dinner dress.”

“Since when did that bother you?”

“Fenris, put on that black shirt you were wearing the other morning. It makes you look divine.” She caught my face and laughed. “We’re all attractive looking people working to make Anders upset that he’s gone and ditched us for a high-paying job saving lives.”

“Have you forgotten the fact that I forced him to quit?”

She waved a hand dismissively and grabbed her things.

“I’m off. If you’re late, I’ll make you regret it.”

Fenris and I slumped a little longer, before her words caught up with me and startled me out of my tired daze.

“Shit, Fen, come on.” I startled him with my sudden movement. “If we’re late she will make us regret it.”

“How?” I was already gathering my things and moving.

“After last time, I really do not plan on finding out.”

 

* * *

 

“Cullen’s been causing problems,” said Don, running a hand over his head, then scraping down to itch at his sideburns. “It’s got Aveline in a bother.”

Aveline hadn’t spoken to anyone all evening, and even Mum had given up on trying to draw her into conversation.

Merrill wasn’t there that night, and Sandal had a cold so was in bed. Bo kept leaving the table to check on him. After last week, dinner seemed subdued.

“I thought Cullen was a good one,” I said.

Being out of the game didn’t mean I didn’t keep abreast of the players. Cullen had been promoted recently, as had Aveline. I didn’t expect there to be problems this soon.

“That she’s married to me hasn’t helped the issue,” continued Don.

“Do you want me to talk to Cullen?”

“If it’s not too much of a hassle. He respects you.”

“It’s not,” I promised. Even if it was, I would help Don and Aveline. “I promised I’d show Fenris around.”

“How is he?”

Fenris glanced at us glancing at him, but he was across the table and between a loud conversation and couldn’t hear us. Still, I lowered my voice slightly.

“We had a talk last week. I think he’s doing better.”

“Is he more settled in?”

“Slightly. He’s still tense. Any word?”

“Nothing,” Don said. “I’ll keep listening.”

 

 

The next morning, after giving a lesson at a positively ghastly hour, I coaxed Fenris out of bed and into the car and we trundled down the hill to see Cullen.

I hadn’t noticed any change in how he’d been acting the first time we went to my mother’s, but that day he was jumpy. I reached out and changed the radio and he flinched kind of jumpy.

“We can go home, if you’d prefer.”

Batman wasn’t with us. Perhaps that was it. The dog had hardly left Fenris’ side before, but Batman didn’t do well around the station anymore.

“No,” he said determinedly.

“It’s no good you working yourself into a tither just so I can talk to a cop about Aveline.”

He gave a dark laugh, but didn’t say anything.

“We’ll get you some clothes after we’re done,” I said, as though that were any comfort.

 

Cullen was in his office surrounded by paper when we arrived. I was a familiar face, and while Fenris got a lot stares, I caught them all with a scowl and we reached Cullen without incident.

“You,” said Cullen. “I’m not surprised. Close the door.” He frowned at Fenris. “This must be the one that Don was talking about. The Tevinter.”

“Does everyone know?” spat Fenris, his body tense. I’d seen that sort of anger before, in people who were cornered and would fight to get out. Cullen raised his hands in submission.

“It’s been kept quiet. Other than Don and Aveline, probably I’m the only one who does. Unfortunately, those tattoos of yours are rather memorable.” Fenris gave a deep scowl and turned away.

“I hear there’s been some talk about Aveline not being fit for duty,” I said, getting right to the point. Social calls were for coffee shops, not the office of a Captain. “Do I need to persuade some sense into you?” My voice was hard, a no nonsense kind of firmness to it. I could feel Fenris just looking at me. He had only seen me around the kids and the horses, where I was all smiles and jokes, or Anders and Isabela where I was all winks and flirtatious remarks.

I remembered that I hadn’t expressly informed him of my past life.

“I take it you’ve spoken to Aveline,” said Cullen.

“There’s nothing to support the claims made against her, and I know I’m not just speaking as her friend. She’s a good officer. Most anyone would vouch for her. I’m mostly surprised that these rumours exist.”

“I am aware of that.”

I blinked a moment. “And yet you repeated the comments regardless?”

“It’s not my fault. If I receive any complaints about an officer I cannot bury them. If the talk stopped, I’d stop repeating them,” he finished with a shrug. I glared at his avoidance of taking responsibility.

I gave a laborious sigh. “Just tell me who’s been spreading them.”

“Complaints are anonymous,” he protested.

“Cullen,” I growled.

“Talk to Brennan.”

I gave a cheery grin.

“Now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

“Be careful, Nat.”

“When am I not?”

Cullen’s eyes flicked over Fenris. “I mean it. Whatever mess he’s in, you need to watch out.”

“Come on, Cullen. This is me. What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

I should be banned from saying those words. You’d think that, after such a long time, I wouldn’t even be tempted to say those words. Ever. Nothing good ever came from saying those words.

But I’d said them, so getting to Brennan wasn’t the nice walk downtown that it sometimes was.

I say sometimes, because in my opinion we should have just set fire to most of the city to rebuild from the ashes. It would be much easier. The air downtown was foul, the buildings coated in brown muck and the people wandered with aimless misery. When I had intended to show Fenris around town I hadn’t wanted to show him this part. I didn’t want to show anyone this part.

“The true character of any city is found among its poor,” he said as we walked past an alley where a cardboard shanty had been propped up against a wall, ragged blankets balled up to form something akin to a bed.

“The true character of this city is a horse with a broken leg. I hate this place. It needs to be put down.”

“The city, or this part of it?”

“The top of the hill isn’t much better,” I said.

“But it’s where you live, where you don’t have to remember the plight of those less fortunate than you.”

“You can’t save everyone,” I said, unhappy at what felt like accusations. “Andraste knows I’ve tried.” He made a grunting noise at that, but said nothing. “Brennan should be down here.”

The downtown police station had bars on the windows and a single bleak doorway.

I’d expected some trouble at my face. I didn’t exactly stand out, and it had been years, but I was a familiar sight in particular circles. There was a short row of people with handcuffs waiting to be talked to, and when one of them started up at seeing us I was ready with a quick joke and a harsh stare.

I hadn’t expected the man to look past me right at Fenris.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Tom,” said Fenris, stalking forward, fists balled. I didn’t exactly want there to be a fight in the middle of the police station of downtown Kirkwall. I brushed my hand on Fenris’ arm.

“Steady,” I said softly.

“Listen to your master.”

I clenched my jaw. “You don’t want to start this,” I said, making it very clear that I was talking to Tom, not Fenris. “Not here, not now.” Because I would be right beside Fenris no matter what he did, and none of the officers here would be able to make any charges stick to me. I’d sold most of the information I had for my freedom, and I no longer got so much as a speeding fine.

Apparently Tom didn’t know that. He lunged, and before I had a chance to block the attack Fenris was there.

Fenris was fierce.

He was more than that.

I suddenly had absolutely no desire to ever fight him. Even with Aveline and Carver at my back I couldn’t imagine that we’d beat him.

The fight was short and sweet and ended with Tom sprawled unconscious on the floor. There hadn’t been enough time for anyone else to move. I touched Fenris’ arm, and he wrenched it free immediately, whirling and ready to strike.

“Come on,” I said softly, forcing myself not to flinch.

His anger was rolling off him in waves. “I am not a slave,” he growled.

“I’m not making you one, but we’re here for a reason.”

He nodded, let out a shaky breath, and stepped over the fallen body. If I stepped on Tom’s hand to a loud, satisfying crunch, well. Not my fault. He should haven’t left it laying about.

 

Brennan was in the break room and she offered us coffee. I merely raised my eyebrows in response.

“Right, right. Sorry, you don’t drink it. What can I do for you?”

“It’s about Aveline.” Brennan very carefully set the coffee cup down on the bench and crossed her arms. “This is about the complaints. It’s not me you want to talk to.” I waited. She said nothing. “Does no one in the damnable city give a straight answer? Whose arm should I be twisting to get this mess sorted out?”

“Jeven. You need to talk to Jeven.”

I was tired. I wanted Fenris out of there. I hated that I’d brought him. I hated that I lived in this city. “That asshat’s back in town? I thought I killed him.”

Fenris flinched at the easy way I said that. I’d killed so many death hardly seemed something to get caught up about anymore.

“He was arrested, as the law demanded,” said Brennan slowly.

“Oh, that. Yeah. So why isn’t he in prison?”

“It has been three years.”

“I see. They kicked him out for being too slimy for even their tastes, I suppose.”

“His sentence was for three years,” she corrected patiently. “Honestly, I thought that the complaints would just go away.”

I frowned. “And to make it go away you relayed the complaints up the chain of command to Cullen?”

“This isn’t any of your concern, Hawke. You are no longer associated with the force.”

I was never associated with the force, but there was no reason to inform her of that fact. In a cold voice I said, “This is my business. Aveline is my friend, and I don’t abandon my friends.” I felt Fenris beside me, a comforting fierceness that steadied me.

“No one’s been listening to Jeven. It will all blow over soon.”

“See that it does, else you’ll be getting a repeat visit only instead of Tom it’ll be you on the floor.”

“Who is Tom?” she asked, suddenly confused.

“I think you’ll find him unconscious in the waiting room,” supplied Fenris.

“With a broken hand,” I added. “I don’t know what he’s here for, but ask him about any connections he might have to Tevinter and slavery.” Brennan blinked. “Once he wakes up, that is,” I said with a smile. “See that you get the mess with Aveline cleared up and you won’t see me again for a while.”

 

* * *

 

“Is this what you do?” asked Fenris, the first words spoken between us since leaving the station.

“Hmm?” I asked. I’d been examining the wares displayed on the tables of the market stalls. “I teach kids to ride horses.”

“When you said you were a jack of all trades, this is what you meant?”

I shrugged, picking up a moth-eaten scarf in my fingers and dropping it just as fast. The texture was foul. I didn’t understand how it could be for sale.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Were you, what do they call it? Secret Service?”

“Yes. Precisely,” I said in a tone that clearly indicated that my answering was only to humour him, nothing more. We left that section of the market, starting up a steep flight of stairs. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he said tersely. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Tom,” I reminded him.

“Oh. Him.”

“Takes six months average for someone to face court,” I droned. “Seven percent of all untried criminals are murdered in the waiting cells before they get that far.”

“Is that meant to please me? You are so cavalier about death.”

“I did not think you would be the sort to worry about the suffering of non-innocents.”

“How do you know he wasn’t innocent?”

“He called me your Master.” I stamped up the last step to the next level of the city, out of that gross place. “No one who thinks another person should be owned is innocent.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you set down and try to write something funny only to realise you have no idea what a joke is or what funny even is so you start Googling random shit and in the end the only humorous things you can think of are porn puns?
> 
> This chapter is borne of that. 
> 
> But you've read this far! So clearly I'm doing something right. Even if that thing is neither jokes nor prompt updates. If you want you can follow me on tumblr at ojirawel, where I will complain in ample amounts about all the reasons why I am slow to update. But good news! I'm writing the 14th chapter as we speak and maybe, just maybe, it will be finished in the 15th. (I say this having planned to finish it by the 10th.)
> 
> All your comments are precious and loved and all my readers are wonderful and great and thank you thank you for enjoying the words I string together.

Merrill arrived first. This wasn’t unusual. Fridays she finished her classes early, and she worked Halla with me politely teaching her, and then I worked Arishok with Varric yelling at me. I had presumed that the plan was for everyone to scarper and then we’d end up at Andy’s apartment for poker. That was the usual rhythm of things.

It started raining, of course. It was just that sort of day. After the morning we’d had tramping through the city Fenris had spoken only a couple words together, and they had been, “Do you want a cup of tea?”

I was very excited for a very long, hot shower. A very long shower. I washed my hair twice, and I was still in there when I heard the front door bang open.

Tense and tired from the day I had no thought on my mind other than it being an intruder. I thought only of Fenris, and leaped out of the shower without even turning off the water. I grabbed the towel as an afterthought, struggling to put it around my waist as I rushed up the hall.

“Whoever that is,” I yelled, “be warned I am not in the,” I stopped. “Mood,” I finished. I blinked, and quickly made sure the towel was sitting on my hips properly. “Merrill, I thought you left.”

“I did,” she said, blushing faintly as water slid from my shoulders. It ran down my arms and dripped onto the carpet.

“Then why are you here? It’s poker night. You never come to poker night.”

Poker night wasn’t officially for the men, it just generally worked out that way. Aveline was a sore loser, Bethany was often busy and Isabela claimed to have no interest in our friendly games when she could win more money from people she didn’t like. Which was a nice sentiment, I suppose. At least she liked us. Merrill had just never expressed interest.

I frowned. “And poker night is at Andy’s this week.”

“It’s been cancelled.”

“Are pigs flying? Poker night is never cancelled.”

We’d even played poker the night that my brother had died. It had been a miserable affair, more for the company than the game itself, but the point still stood.

Merrill shrugged helplessly.

“Andy called me and told me to be here. I only left long enough to pick up Orana.” She blushed a little, and stumbled quickly on. “Your Mum’s gone out for dinner and Sandal is still sick, so she didn’t want to be at home. We had plans, but then Andy called and I couldn’t say no.”

I frowned, still a step behind. “No to what, Merrill?”

“What is the matter?” In the state that I was in - naked except for a towel and dripping water - it took me a moment to register there had been actual words spoken. I made very sure the towel was secure.

“Poker night is cancelled, and I don’t know why. I’m very unhappy about it,” I added firmly.

“Do you think you be dressed and unhappy?” stammered Merrill. “Not that you’re not, uh, very handsome. But, well. You are my boss.”

“We couldn’t have Orana getting jealous, I suppose,” I agreed. “Fenris, have you fed Batman?”

“Just about to.”

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at Merrill once more. Poker night couldn’t possibly be cancelled.

“Please put some clothes on?” she begged.

I gave a grouching response and tramped back to my room.

 

 

I took my sweet time about getting dressed, not least because my hair needed immediate administration right out of the shower, and if it didn’t receive it, it dried in completely the wrong style.

So I washed it again, for the third time, dried and styled it, and then stared at myself in the mirror.

There were scars on more than just my chest. They had faded a little from time, but they’d never be completely gone. I avoided being shirtless in front of anyone. Occasionally a poor ignorant viewer had asked what accident had caused them, and explaining was simply too much effort. Except Fenris knew. He knew what had caused the scars. I ignored those scars and the other scars, the ones I got from my history of unhappiness, and the others gathered from my particular line of work.

It had been a miserable day from start to finish. All I had wanted was to deal with Aveline’s problem (which had been tiresome to say the least), ride my horse (and I’d been rained on), have a hot shower (which had been disrupted), and play poker with my friends (which was now cancelled). Instead, I had people in my house and my hair was not behaving and I had mistakenly shown people my scars. I could hear the laughter of my friends permeating through the door and it was all so disturbing that I spent a while bothering over my clothes merely so I could gather myself together to face them.

“Nat, my man!” called Varric through the door. “You’re pretty enough, just throw something on.”

I heard Isabela say something, and there was laughter. It riled me to not know what she had said.

“Is everyone here?” I groaned.

“Even Bethany,” confirmed Varric.

“Bloody hell,” I yelled at the roof, even though news of my sister being there did do a little to make me happier. It had been too long since I’d seen her away from Mum and Thursday dinner. I snatched up a shirt and tried to pull it on before I realised that it wasn’t mine. My clothes had been messed up with Fenris’ in the washing. I tossed the shirt into the corner. After the incident downtown we’d gone shopping for him properly, and although he had been incredibly insecure about the whole thing at least he was no longer wearing my boyish castoffs.

“I’m not in the mood for this,” I snarled to the next shirt I grabbed. Wrenching it on I opened the door to a burst of noise.

“I know that, kid,” said Varric, standing in the short hallway by the bedroom door. “That’s why poker’s cancelled. I heard about Tom Titan and thought you and Fenris would need some cheering up.”

“Tom Titan?” I felt both my eyebrows shoot up. “Is that a real name?”

Varric shrugged. “It’s what he called himself.”

“So you cancelled poker?” My brain was still stuck on that fact.

“Plus,” he rocked from foot to foot and leaned closer. “I thought it was high time we really welcomed your boy.”

“He’s not,” I smiled. “This is a welcome?”

Varric shrugged. “This was deemed most appropriate by all. Anyway, Isabela wanted to get drunk and it’s been a while since you showed your face at The Hanged Man.

“I’ve been avoiding that place with good reason,” I said, following him through the kitchen into my living room. “That place is a cesspool.”

“It’s better than the other places around,” protested Andy.

“If they let you in it can’t be that much better,” said Fenris dryly. He looked at me, up and down, and I couldn’t tell if it was approval for what I was wearing or in memory of my scars.

“Who invited him, again?” teased Andy.

“Orana brought cake,” declared Merrill. “And we’ve already ordered pizza. I didn’t have to give them a delivery address, though, when I said who it was for.” I grinned proudly. Being on a first name basis with all the closest take-away places might not actually be something special, but by the Maker I was going to pretend it was. “They said they’d put it on your tab. I didn’t know pizza places did tabs.”

“For me they’ll do anything. Alright, if you’re going to take over my house, a few rules.” There were groans, though they had heard them all before. “Last people to leave cleans up. Fen and I are not getting stuck with the mess.” I ignored the fact that I’d called him Fen twice now. After today I had no doubt that he could look after himself. If I did something he was unhappy with he would let me know. “No riding the horses drunk.” There were snickers. Isabela and Andy had once goaded me into a race, and while our horses had been perfectly sober we had been perfectly trashed. Watching the video Varric had caught on his phone still made me cringe in fear, even though I knew we had all magically escaped unscathed. “If anyone, and I mean anyone, spills red wine on the carpet again you will be put in the stable. Are we clear?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Can we drink, now?” whined Isabela, and somehow that noise broke through the grey mood that was still lingering like an unhappy cloud. I laughed.

“We can drink.”

 

We drank.

We drank a lot.

Well, my friends did. I was a bit reserved. It had been a long day, after all, and following the events of the previous week and the minor freak out involving the shower and me being shirtless in front of people, I didn’t actually drink much. I did eat all the jelly beans.

I noticed that Fenris didn’t either. I wasn’t sure if other people noticed our lack of conviction, but I picked my friends well. Some people can be drunk and impossible to be around. My friends, though. They’re great no matter what.

Pizza came, and poor Pol was dragged into the raucous mess of my friends and made to play Mario Kart.

It wasn’t the first time. A boy delivers you pizza once every couple weeks for several years and you could almost call the guy a friend. In return for pizza he made me imitate a number of actors, and my voice slipped easily from accent to accent at their command. Eventually he slipped out when the doorbell rang and Aveline was there with Don and more wine. Andy told us one of the more humorous stories about working as a vet, one that didn’t require any extensive knowledge of medical terms to understand, and nothing died. Somewhere in there Merrill won the Mario Kart tournament and kissed Orana. She immediately blushed when she found us all looking, so Isabela, who sometimes doesn’t put her foot in it, cheered and told them to do it again.

The more surprising part was when they did.

After that came the game of making Fenris, who Varric had been calling “Broody McBroodster”, into laughing.

Usually, when it was me they were trying to cheer up, they’d resort to tickling. To their credit, and because they were my friends and my friends, despite everything, are actually good people, they tried to do this without touching him.

I thought that perhaps Fenris’ face was simply naturally set like that when I spied his fist curling around the cushion of the couch as Isabela rolled on the floor laughing at one of her favourite jokes.

It was a very lame joke.

I loved it, but it was a very lame joke.

‘Why did the scarecrow win an award?’

‘He was outstanding in his field.’

It would have me rolling around on the floor every time, and Bethany nudged me with her toe so that I was out of danger of hitting my head on the coffee table while I cackled.

“Tell it again, again,” I gasped, and then laughed loudly before anyone had the chance.

Varric put his head solemnly into his hands and shook it slowly.

“I am in despair,” he intoned. Fenris was, apparently, resorting to scrunching up the furniture in an effort not to laugh.

So lifted my head a little from the carpet and smiled up at them all.

“What do you call an alligator in a vest?”

“Maker, no,” groaned Merrill.

“I know this one!” said Isabela. “I do, I know it!”

“Is it an investigator?” asked Orana.

Everyone groaned, and I giggled.

“Oh, what about porn titles,” said Varric, brightening up.

“Yes,” said Andy, eagerly. “The Da Vinci Load.”

“Big Bang Theory.”

“That’s already a pun,” I criticised. “My favourite is Edward Penishands.”

“I like World of Whorecraft,” said Merrill. “I mean, I mean,” she quickly added, “I haven’t watched it. But it’s a funny title.”

“Pulp Friction,” offered Isabela.

“Missionary Position Impossible,” I continued. “And The Penetrator. Instead of The Terminator.”

“When I was at uni I had to take an English class, so I did Shakespeare,” began Andy.

“Are you talking about A Midsummer Night’s Cream?” interrupted Varric. “Or King Rear? Oh, look at Daisy, she’s blushing.”

Merrill glared at our laughter.

“Two Gentlemen in Veronica?” suggested Fenris, his gravelly voice so unexpected in the conversation that the laughter from all of us was instantaneous. It was too much for Fenris, and he laughed. Actually laughed.

I didn’t hear it over everyone but seeing his eyes crinkle up and his lips open in a smile was enough for me.

Life was good.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for your comments, they keep me going through the long, lonely nights.

Like Merrill, Bethany was studying. Unlike Merrill, Bethany’s studying was a bit more hands on, and a bit more full on. Technically she had a job at the stables. She was on the payroll and any hours she clocked I’d pay her for, but she was studying to be a nurse and rarely had the time outside of dinner at mother’s for any kind of social life.

I woke slowly and stretched lazily, rolling my head to see Bethany on the other side of the bed blinking in the dim light. When the twins were kids Carver had gone through a horrendous nightmare phase that woke up Bethany and sent her scurrying to my room while Mum or Dad saw to Carver. We were well used to sharing a bed.

Having not seen her properly for so long it was nice to wake up beside her as though we were still children, as if Dad were still alive and as if Carver were just down the hall in his own room.

She rolled to look at me, clearly sharing my thoughts. Still, seeing her in the morning while the rest of the group slept was nice, just as it was nice to have her fall in beside me to do my morning check of all the horses. We went to get Puffin and Nancy first, walking them back to their day paddock in companionable silence.

Companionable on my end. She flinched at the sounds of the birds and then admitted to being very hung over.

My little sister.

We put Puffin and Nancy out, and then she retreated back to bed. I promised her breakfast.

 

“Your friends are very peculiar,” said Fenris.

Having walked Bethany back to the house, I’d managed to collect Fenris instead, Batman trotting happily forwards sniffing at the path.

“Grab the wheelbarrow, would you?” He was already doing it; we’d done this before. Fill the wheelbarrow with hay, and then go round to all the paddocks to toss some over to the horses. There’d been rain but no sun, and the grass was boggy and grey-green. They needed the extra feed. “My friends are lovely,” I added in belated defence.

“They’re peculiar,” he repeated. He was in a good mood.

“Charades is a very normal game for people of our age,” I sniffed haughtily. I had no proof to back up my statement, but no one could deny the inherent hilarity in trying to get Varric to act out Hairspray.

“I noticed you didn’t drink much.”

“I noticed you didn’t, either. Grab some lucerne, too.” With the green hay stark against the yellow we trundled off down the driveway to feed the horses. “I have been finding I become highly emotional if I drink, and very fragile. What’s your excuse?”

“I drink when I’m remembering things.”

Jethann nicked at us both, shoving through the other horses at the gate to reach the hay first. “Do you remember much?”

This didn’t feel like a before-breakfast conversation, but I was loathe to shut him down if he wanted to talk. Perhaps it was better this way, done in the early morning when his mind was clear and he was in a good mood.

“Bits and pieces. I know that I knew my mother, but I cannot recall more than a distant haze. I apparently met my sister, but I don’t even know her name. She has red hair,” he added.

The wheel on the barrow rattled as I ran it over a stone.

“Who was Tom?”

“A trader. I changed hands a few times before,” he grimaced, “Danarius picked me up.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, and his face was sternly set. “You do well with the students,” I said. “I was surprised.”

“Do you honestly think so?” He almost smiled. “I was surprised, myself. I’ve not had much contact with children. I don’t remember being one, myself. My first memory is these,” he held out his hand. Somehow I’d never noticed that the tattoos continued on over his palms. I didn’t even know that was possible. “And the pain of receiving them. They are meant to remind me who I belong to.”

“Did they work?”

He let out a short barked laugh. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

“I imagine most people avoid the topic altogether.”

“You’re right, they do.” He pushed a horse’s head gently out of the way so that I could toss some hay into the plastic bin below. “To answer your question, they used to. Now, I’m not so sure. Being away from him is allowing me to see them in a different light.”

“Do you want my opinion?”

“Do I have a choice?”

I blinked.

“Always. You always have a choice.”

“Then your opinion, please.”

“I think you look bloody handsome, and you’d be a fool to let that bastard taint how you see yourself.”

He gave a harsh laugh.

“I’m not a good man. The things I’ve done…”

“Fenris,” I said sternly. “I’ve done some pretty awful things, too. And I did them by choice.”

He fell into a pensive silence and I kept pushing the wheelbarrow to give him space.

“Danarius was a drug runner,” he said, finally. “Guns, too, but mostly drugs, and he had a lot of slaves.”

Some people spoke about their past with a dispassionate disconnection, as though the events they were describing had happened in some far off distant land to people they had never met. Not so with Fenris. He rolled the words over in his mouth and then spat them out with all the disgust they warranted, experiencing absolutely the bitterness his life had instilled within him.

“I was his special pet. It was a privilege to be me.”

“You worked your way up?” I asked curiously.

“Hah! I think I’d be more lost than I already am if that had been the case. I wanted to save my mother and sister, or so he told me. I always understood that he chose me. Perhaps he was telling the truth, though. About my family.”

“Donnic told me that you were kidnapped.”

“Perhaps that’s true,” shrugged Fenris. “A number of us were. I don’t remember if I was.” The wheelbarrow was nearly empty, and we had the long trek to the last paddock where a couple horses waited for their breakfast. “He liked to take me places. Anywhere he could show me off, so we travelled a lot. A couple years ago, a deal went bad, and there was a fight. One of my duties was to protect Danarius, which I did, but I was injured. The people wanted Danarius, and in the midst of it all I was left behind. What use is a soldier-slave who cannot fight?” He sounded as though he truly blamed himself for that. “Those people kept me for a while, but their security wasn’t so good and without Danarius I didn’t feel so trapped. So I fled.”

“To here?”

“No. I,” he stuttered to a stop.

“It’s alright,” I said. “If you can’t tell me more…”

“No,” he interrupted harshly. “I want to tell you. I need to, I think. To tell someone.” He pressed on with fierce determination. “I tried to go back.”

“Back to Danarius?” I cried, incredulous.

“Where else did I know? I did not have the money for passage, so I found work in a village a few islands over from Tevinter. But even though I was a stranger, they welcomed me with open arms.” He shook his head, still clearly bewildered by that idea. “Danarius found me,” he sighed. “He demanded I come back. I refused. The village refused,” his voice was now clipped and sharp. “He demanded I come back lest he kill them all. The villagers didn’t know Danarius, and so they still refused. Danarius and his men opened fire. I said I’d return if only he’d stop, and he did, for a bit. Just long enough to give me back my sword and send me in. His men,” his voice shuddered, then came strong again. “I know how to kill immediately, with minimal pain. So I did as he asked. And when I was standing there, I looked at my sword,” I caught him staring at a space beyond his hand, as though he were holding it even then, “and the blood dripping off it, and something… Cracked. I nearly killed Danarius. I thought I did, except that I found out, later, from one of his bounty hunters sent after me, that I’d only injured him.”

“And so you fled.”

He blinked. “You are critical of the fact that I did not initially wish to escape.”

“I,” I was, I realised. “I don’t mean to be,” I apologised.

“And now I’ve brought this whole clandestine mess to your doorstep,” he growled, striding forward a few steps. We’d reached the stable by then, and wheelbarrow returned to its place we went up to the house in silence.

I wanted to reach out and reassure him, but my mind was too muddled with thoughts of what he had told me.

Fenris paused in the garden path before the door. “Nat, what I’ve told you,” he began.

“I would promise you that it stays between us, but I cannot. If either Don or Aveline have need of anything you’ve told me in order to keep you safe, I will tell them.”

“I suppose I could not ask for anything else,” said Fenris. “I would not have you in danger because of me.”

“Don’t mistake this for some kind of macho determinism. I can take care of myself.” He gave a slight nod in acknowledgement. “I can promise you I will not gossip about you. I understand the importance of such things, Fenris. Your secrets are safe with me.” I met his eye, my heart catching in my throat. “As are you.”

He stared.

“I,” he shook his head in bewilderment. “Thank you,” he finished rather lamely. He didn’t seem to know what else to say, and so it was enough for me.

“Breakfast?”

 

The house was stirring, a slow process that was sped up by my softly whispering the time into Merrill’s ear.

“I have to be at uni!” she yelped, flinging the covers that she and Orana were sharing on the floor. They were both clothed, but during the night Orana’s shirt had hiked up her torso and Merril’s pants had slipped down beyond her hips.

Orana shrieked at the cold air on her skin and reached out desperately for the quilt.

“Maker, where’s my things? Orana, where’s my bag? I have a lecture!”

“Shut up,” muttered Anders.

“Why are you still awake?” added Bethany with feeling. She’d moved from my room to the beanbag, her head resting against Isabela’s leg and one hand dangling with fingers nearly brushing Andy’s chest.

Batman had taken an interest in the commotion and was stepping uneasily over the wavering landscape of the covers to lick Orana’s face.

“Orana, help me!” cried Merrill. “I have to get to class!”

“Merrill,” said Fenris.

“What?” she said, one hand trying to flatten her hair and the other putting her socks the right way out.

“It’s Saturday, Merrill.”

“What?”

I, still crouching next to their makeshift bed, grinned at her.

“You bastard!” she cried, snatching her pillow and whacking me over the head with it. “You bastard, you absolute no-good awful person! I hate you!”

Orana made a noise that clearly indicated what she thought of me, and there were mutterings from the couches expressing the same emotion.

“Will you hate me less if I make you breakfast?” I grinned.

Merrill considered.

“If there’s porridge.”

“Porridge? Why do you want porridge? I can do beans on toast and pancakes and sausages and -” Merrill cut me off.

“I want porridge, else I won’t forgive you.”

I let out a laborious sigh.

“I’ll make porridge. Just for you.”

“With honey.”

“Okay.”

“And cream.”

“Dairy-free?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said determinedly.

“M’am, your wish is my command.”

 

I made her porridge.

In fact, I made them all porridge. I had great and glorious plans for breakfast. Well. I had planned to make them the same thing I come to be in the habit of making for Fenris, but that was great and glorious enough. Compared to my past life of cereal or toast, anything was a great and glorious breakfast.

But the moment I started making porridge for Merrill I was informed that Orana, too, would like some, claiming it might be good for the hangover, and suddenly everyone wanted some.

I grumbled, but then Fenris leaned across me to get some glasses out of the top cupboard and his shirt brushed my shoulder, and I was suddenly perfectly okay with doing whatever anyone asked me.

Varric, bless him, didn’t want porridge. He said the only cure for a long night playing drunken games with a ragtag group such as ourselves was a lot of greasy bacon. Batman agreed. Although Varric firmly stated that my ‘mangy mutt’ wouldn’t receive any more than a sniff of bacon, I did catch him sharing it.

 

“You know what would be nice?” asked Anders, leaning back in his chair, bowl scraped empty in front of him.

“More porridge?” asked Merrill hopefully.

“Isabela ate the last,” I said. Merrill made a face at Isabela, who ignored her and drank her coffee.

“You can have mine,” offered Aveline, pushing her bowl over and taking the abandoned slice of toast from Varric’s near-empty plate. Merrill dug in eagerly.

“A ride.”

“Later, big boy,” said Isabela. “Let me gather my energy first.”

“Thanks for the offer, but my mind was focusing on a different sort of ride.”

“It is a lovely day for it,” I said. “Not had many days that started with actual sun.”

“What do you say, Fenris? Are you up for it?”

I was surprised he looked at Fenris. Surprised, and pleased.

“May I ride Aurum?” he asked, eyes meeting mine. I almost forgot to answer under that gaze.

“Sure. He’ll enjoy it.”

 

Orana and Aveline had never sat in a saddle so both bowed out, which was perhaps a smart move since my house was still a mess and my rule still stood: last to leave had to clean.

But the others didn’t care. We had the blue sky above and the wet soggy grass below.

“I want to race,” said Andy.

“Bianca will beat you all,” said Varric. He swept a hand down over his horse’s neck. He wasn’t usually the sort to join us in our antics, but give him a chance to show of his one true love and he’d never say no. “Won’t you, my lady?”

“Naishe could take you all,” said Isabela.

“Is the old track still around, Nat?”

“Just past those trees,” I said, pointing. “We’ll have to open the gates.”

“I remember,” said Andy.

The race track had been put in by my father, the grass stripped out and gates put in so that we could gallop in a great arching circle. It had been great fun as children, though I never even told the students that the path existed. I had my insurance to worry about, and my reputation.

“What about grumpy-face?” asked Isabela.

She hadn’t called him ‘Fen’ to his face since the scowl. I had, and since I continued to live to tell the tale I had decided that I was allowed to call him that. But I wasn’t about to press my luck and start doing it all the time.

He didn’t look that grumpy that morning, but perhaps I’d managed to learn his emotions a little more exactly than my friends.

“Aurum is a steady horse. You won’t win, but you won’t be in any danger,” I said.

He looked almost disappointed.

“I am happy to race, even if Nat tells me there’s no point to it.”

“Well, it’s not that there’s no point,” I said. “It’s just, Arishok is the baddest and best. The real competition will be for second place.”

“Hold up just a minute!” said Isabela.

“We all know he’s just talk,” said Varric. “You take the bottom gate, I’ll take the top and we meet by the old tree?”

“The lightning tree?” asked Anders.

“That’s the one.”

 

Arishok didn’t champ at the bit. He stood as stoically as Fenris sat, while Isabela’s Naishe danced in place and tossed her head impatiently.

Tired of holding the reins tight Isabela let her surge forward only to bring her around in a tight circle. Finally, the other two men arrived.

“Maker,” exclaimed Isabela. “What did you boys do over there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” teased Anders.

Varric made a face at Anders, and Bianca tossed her head, trying to catch the bit between her teeth.

“Easy, minx. You can eat them up in a few seconds.”

“Are you ready?” I asked. Fenris gave a terse nod; his hands were tight on the reins and he was tensing up.

“Hells yeah!” said Isabela. Merrill laughed, the noise curling through the cool air.

“Loosen your hands a little. Remember to breathe,” I advised Fenris. “He’ll carry you through. He won’t let you fall off.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he scoffed. “I’m worried you’ll fire me when I beat you.”

“Careful, Nat, he sits well and might end up being better than you.”

“Pish,” I said. “Let’s race.”

Isabela let out a yelp of joy, Anders’ joining in, and we lined up.

“On three,” I said. “One, two - Oi!” Isabela broke out of line, or perhaps it was Naishe’s fault, and our horses, catching our eagerness, surged after her without question.

I kept Arishok in check for one, two, three strides, long enough to snatch a look under my elbow to see Fenris rising easily up out of the saddle, one hand curled through Aurum’s mane. He looked good. Really good.

My balance faltered for just a moment, and Arishok grabbed at the chance.

He was a big horse.

Bianca was big, Halla was nimble, and Feynriel was light. They were well suited to their sports, but in a flat race like this one they didn’t have a chance. Arishok wasn’t as flexible as Feynriel, not as graceful as Halla. He was best suited to the brute speed of the cross country, the only elegance in his form being found when he had to skid around a corner and bounce a double drop into the water and fly away up the hill.

He always took a few strides to get himself together, but once he was there he was nigh unstoppable. I kept him on a heavy bit and never, ever wore spurs.

I leaned forward, sinking my weight down and letting loose a bit of the pressure on the reins.

He ran.

The green flashed past, the brown line of the fence and the open gate a mere blur, and he ran. I heard someone whooping behind me, a cry of glee from Merrill. Somewhere beyond Batman was barking and running as fast as he could to keep up.

There was the heavy noise of Bianca racing up beside me, and I let out another notch on the reins, let myself drop a little lower down.

Arishok answered, flying easily around the curve and through the second gate, past the dam and up the soft slope to where we had begun.

I stood up in the stirrups, looking over my shoulders.

“That’s how it’s done, kids!”

“You cheated!” called Isabela.

“I cheated?” I yelled back, laughing.

“How was that, Elf?”

“Elf?” asked Fenris. His face was red from the wind and he was grinning. He looked carefree. “Is that me?”

“Skinny blighter with funny hair? Stick on some ears and you’re good to go.”

“Then you’re a… golem. Or a dwarf.”

“He is rich enough to be a dwarf,” said Andy, circling Feynriel around.

“Shut it, blondie.”

“Or what?” taunted Andy.

“I’ll pay to have your trap sewn shut.”

“All the men in Kirkwall will come wailing to your door,” I said. “Women, too.”

“He does things with that mouth,” agreed Isabela.

“What?” I asked.

“What?” she said.

“Is that confirmation that you’ve slept together?” asked Varric.

“Fenris?” said Merrill loudly. “Do you want to walk back to the stable with me?”

“And leave these degenerates? Nothing would please me better.”

“Hey!” I called. “That’s an unfair assessment.”

“I agree,” said Andy, urging Feynriel to follow them. “Isabela, maybe, but Nat and I are of the highest calibre.”

“Blondie!” said Varric. “This is important information for when I write Nat’s memoir.”

“What about my memoir?” asked Isabela.

“Have you ever killed a man with one thumb?” asked Varric.

“Ew. No.”

“Then you don’t get a memoir.”

“I don’t recall ever killing a man with one thumb,” I said, hurrying after them. “I’m sure I’d remember that kind of thing. Varric!”

The blasted man just laughed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might not be an update for a little bit so hopefully this one will carry you through. Y'know, just read it again and again.
> 
> I dunno if you're into music to go with your fics, but this chapter was mostly written to Angel by Massive Attack, Fenris' Theme from the DAII soundtrack, and Catch and Release by Silversun Pickups.

Horses aren’t cheap. Anyone who keeps horses can tell you that. It would almost be easier to feed the money directly, except they’d get colic and probably die. Horses can’t vomit. Fun fact. If they have digestive problems they get colic, and you end up calling a vet, and everyone is extremely unhappy.

The property had been my grandparent’s, a side project to everything else that gave them their fortune. It, and all the other Amell property had been meant for my mother on their death, but we were not even told that they had died before we came to Kirkwall. A gross mismanagement of the will meant that it appeared my mother’s inheritance would be lost forever, but over time I wrangled together the money, put pressure on the right people, and managed to give it back to her. She kept it for a while, but when I retired, at age twenty six, she gave it to me.

Teaching was not something I had ever had in mind for a career, though I was no stranger to it. My father had kept horses. The Hawke property had been no where near as fantastic as this. The arena had flooded in the slightest bit of rain, the stables had been rotten through and the paddocks fluctuated between muddy and dusty and never had any grass.

Dad had taught kids in the town how to ride, and it been something I’d done since I had a voice loud enough to bellow across a full sized arena. I’d returned to it like a fish to water, though perhaps I was just grateful for a job that didn’t involve near-death experiences.

It wasn’t the same as my previous job. The hours were longer and the pay was less fantastic. Horses have a horrible habit of losing all their shoes and then impaling themselves on a fence you could swear you fixed up just last week, forcing you to empty your bank account once again. Most of the money was in renting out the stables and space in the paddocks, and then riding the horses for owners too lazy to make the trip from Kirkwall to the farm.

It was like having horses without having horses, and it was exhausting. But it paid well, and I was totally okay with riding horses that I didn’t have to pay for. At least, I thought, mounting the fourth horse of that day, I was being paid good money without being being shot at.

Of course, right at that moment, the second I thought that, there was a very familiar sound.

Tomwise bucked. I sat up straight and tall, sitting firmly and kicking him in the ribs to get him skittering forward out of the panic. The moment his front feet hit the ground he was running, and I was staring around, searching for the source of the shot.

I wondered if, finally, my past life had caught up with me.

Except.

Fenris.

Fenris, who had been a slave, and who ran away.

I did something I hadn’t done since I had been young and stupid.

Tomwise was still running, scared shitless from the gunshot, and I jumped off him. I landed and rolled and was up and running into the stable before the horse had a chance to blink.

“Fen!” I yelled.

“What the hell is happening?” asked Isabela, bewildered at the sight of me. She had heard the shot but she wasn’t like me. She didn’t recognise a gunshot as a sign of danger, and she didn’t know about Fenris’ past. I grabbed her, steadying myself against her.

“Where’s Fenris?”

“He’s gone down to the front paddocks to put Jer-,” I ignored the rest of what she was going to say and pushed off her, turning back to the arena.

I grabbed Tomwise too roughly and swung onto his back in a single swift movement. I booted him roughly in the ribs. Still spooked, he leaped to obey, tearing off through the gate and down the drive.

There were no other loud noises, but that didn’t settle me. I leaned over Tomwise’s neck, glad that I’d been riding him and not Ruby. The mare was recovering from a torn ligament and had only just come back into work.

I cursed the length of my property as Tomwise skidded on the gravel, down towards the front paddocks.

There was Jeremiah and Jasper grazing blissfully with the colourful ropes of their halts trailing in the dirt. There was no Fenris.

Fuck. Fucking fuck.

I dismounted and let Tomwise go over to the other two horses. There was no sign of any movement through the trees, and then I heard a familiar growl.

I felt the tension within me unwind slightly as I ran through the trees towards the noise. Even if I hadn’t been there, Batman had.

There was a cluster of men, two having set themselves on Batman while the dog did his best to worry at a third. I leaped into the fray without a thought, hauling one off.

Bloody hell, he was heavy, nearly twice as big as me. I smashed my fist into his face and shoved him backwards. It was luck more than anything else that sent him rolling down the short muddy slope into the murky water of the dam.

“Batman, don’t kill the fuck!” I cried, and the dog obeyed by turning his attention from the ravaged shoulder of one man to leaping at the arm of the other. I looked for Fenris.

I’ve always thought that I was pretty decent in a scrap. It was never my forte, but if push came to shove I could hold my own. Hell, I thought Carver and Aveline were good at fighting. But Fenris… He was weaponless and still ploughing through them as though they were made of butter.

Blood pouring down his arm the man struggled upright, and I kicked him hard in the gut. He rolled to join the man in the dam, and I didn’t watch to see if he went under the water or not.

Fenris was standing amongst the fallen people. I wasn’t willing to see if they were dead or merely unconscious.

What the hell kind of slave had he been?

I trod carefully across the rough ground. I wasn’t sure Fenris had noticed me and I kept a few steps away for fear of startling him. He wiped the back of his hand across his face, smearing the blood that was dripping from his nose. With a vicious kick he overturned one of the fallen people. He scowled at the face, and surveyed the little battlefield. In two quick strides he had found his mark and hauled her up by her hair.

Batman had moved next to him and was growling, the sound coming from deep in his throat.

Fenris looked…

I had no idea anyone could get that angry.

Still, the woman he had grabbed, now kneeling in the muddy grass, licked her lips and grinned.

“Fenris. You look good. A holiday suited you, you’re prettier than ever.” The woman’s eyes flashed over at me, and I balled my fists in preparation. “Or perhaps a new master did that for you.”

“I’m not his master,” I said, trying to keep my voice easy.

“Oh,” the woman gave a wide smile. “You don’t need to lie to me. Danarius was quite free in praising Fenris’ skills, in all manner of things.”

The shirt. I remembered Fenris lifting his shirt when he had first come to my house. Offering up payment. His body.

His skills.

I gave a soft snorting laugh. It was better than tearing her head from her shoulders. Whatever skills that man had forced Fenris to learn probably didn’t cater for the likes of me.

The slaver began to get up.

Fenris kicked her squarely in the chest, and she crashed backwards. We were close to the edge of the dam, the deep end, and if she fell in there was no guarantee that the reeds wouldn’t trap her and pull her under. I didn’t much care if he did drown, but I felt that Fenris probably wanted to strangle the life out of him himself.

“You travelled a fair way,” I commented mildly.

The alarm on the gate hadn’t tripped, but it did rely on someone bringing a car in after hours. I hadn’t expected something to happen in the middle of the day. Truth be told, I hadn’t expected anything to happen at all. I was completely unprepared. When I first retired I carried a gun with me everywhere. When Carver died, I carried a gun, and Batman didn’t leave my side. And now, years later, I only had Batman.

“It’s not so far to get a prized possession. You took good care of him. Danarius will pay you well for that.”

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” I asked. I was, I admit, slightly surprised, and a little hurt by that. After all, I used to kill his kind for money. “Kill the blight-ridden nug, Fenris,” I said, tired of her voice, tired of her face. “Else I’ll do it for you. Do you want a hand to drag her up to the second stables? I’ve still got a few things lying around that could make her passing slow and painful.”

I didn’t hold with torture. Killing should be swift and short. Anything else reflected more on your own nature than it did the person you were killing, but for this woman, whoever she was? I was perfectly willing with Fenris doing whatever he wanted to the woman, so long as she ended up dead. I had killed people for money, but I had morals. And the way that Fenris had offered himself to me as payment, the way that this woman had praised Fenris’ skills…

I wanted to kill the slaver myself, and I’d wear a smile and do it for free.

“Can I have a moment, Hawke?” snapped Fenris.

“Fine, fine,” I said mildly, going over to Batman to help him with the fallen figures. I checked their pulses, and checked that they were properly out cold and not just faking it. “Good boy,” I murmured to the dog, rubbing his neck. “Let’s see what this arse is packing.”

I stripped them of their weapons while Fenris did whatever Fenris wanted to do. I could hear strangled noises. At one point the woman tried to say something, tried to remind Fenris that he was a slave.

That attempt had ended in a solid thump and a loud crack. I didn’t turn, but I recognised the sound of a jaw breaking.

Five years out of the business meant I could no longer even hazard a guess at who forged the IDs of the unconscious men, but I could tell they were forged. There were smudges around some of the letters, ink bleeding into the wrong type of paper. I dragged them into the trees a little further to make sure they were out of sight from the driveway. I’d done with the last one when the woman’s body slumped. The grass was wet and the mud a thicker, stickier colour. Fenris was panting slightly, his eyes bright. His arm was slick with blood to the elbow, and smooth shiny lumps decorated his hand and wrist.

The silence was drawn out just long enough that it felt awkward.

“I’m sorry for bringing that to your doorstep,” he said, finally.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” I said, biting my lip. The lumps of flesh clinging to him made my insides crawl. That arm had been inside of someone.

We stood there. I felt like I should say something grand. Something like, ‘It’s finally over’, or ‘He deserved it’. Something… Grand. Something witty, perhaps.

“Students will be here soon,” he said in a flat voice.

“I’ll call Aveline. She’ll sort this out.”

I reached out slightly with my hand. My fingers brushed his, blood smearing onto my skin. He flinched and looked at me. He looked as though he wanted to say something, and then he shook his head and stamped away.

Batman looked between us.

“With him,” I said softly. “Go on.”

I collected my horse and called Aveline.

My students were all a tither about the police vans that pulled up in the front paddock, and it was with some effort that I brought them together. Fenris didn’t show his face, which made Isabela complain bitterly. Merrill wasn’t rostered that day, so Isabela called Bethany and between us we made the lessons go. 

 

* * *

 

“Is he alright?” asked Isabela as we put the trotting poles back into their stands. “He seemed alright yesterday. Is it something to do with the cops?”

“No, no,” I said, too quickly.

Isabela made a face. “I thought he was trouble, right from the start. You should have sent his barefoot, scrawny ass right back where it came from.”

“Bel,” I said patiently, tiredly. “The cops aren’t here for him. He’s just had a bit of a day, and I told him he could take it off.”

“Oh,” she relented. “Is he sick? If he’s sick and I catch it he’ll face my wrath.” She stacked the orange cones up while I went to fetch a dropped whip. “I’m off. Tell Fen I hope he feels better tomorrow. And don’t tell him I called him Fen. I like my arms where they are.”

And her heart, probably. My mind couldn’t rid itself of the image of Fenris tearing into that woman’s chest.

 

I didn’t know if Fenris was alright. Last I’d seen of him he’d been walking back up to the cottage with Batman at his heels and blood to his elbows. After I called Aveline I went to see him, but the hallway door had been closed and all I could hear was the shower. I had decided to give him space.

Now, back in the cottage at the end of the night, the hallway door was still closed and I wasn’t sure if I should break through or not.

“Fenris?” I called tentatively.

I didn’t want to wake him if he was sleeping. Nor did I want to startle him if he was not.

“Fenris, if you want to talk tonight, please do it now. I’m knackered.”

The door creaked opened.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked through the crack.

“Only if you want to.” The door swung fully open, and he blinked at me.

“You have to have an opinion,” Fenris demanded.

“Must I?” I felt as tired as he looked. “Then yes. I would like to talk. But it can be tomorrow, or next week.” He was silent a moment, thinking.

“Can we walk?”

He was in a t-shirt, so I made him put on a jumper and scarf before letting him outside. We walked in silence. The moon was a thick grey circle in the sky turning the grass into solid silvery waves. Fenris opened the gate into the paddock between the cottage and the stable. Batman ambled some distance off, and we kept walking.

“I was under the impression that you wished to talk,” he said.

“So was I, but now I don’t know what to say. Should I say congratulations, it appears you stuck your hand through her chest? A very impressive way to kill someone, professionally speaking. Although, professionally speaking, it was very sloppy,” I added. “Very messy. Wouldn’t stand in the field.”

Fenris chuckled. It was low-throated and tired, more of a sigh than a laugh. “It wasn’t designed for the field. It was designed for show.”

“How did you do it? There’s breasts, and ribs.”

“If you kick them hard enough you can fracture them.”

I frowned. “But you still have the issue of skin, and after that you have the intercostal muscles.” I mimed the movement of tearing broken ribs from a chest. “I cannot imagine that you’d merely be able to rip the bones free of all that tissue, even if they’re broken. Course, then there’s the issue of the heart itself. It’s quite firmly attached.”

“A knife is generally used for that part. Ripping a heart out of a chest is quite dramatic but, in reality, very unrealistic.”

“I’m glad to hear you admit it,” I said. “Else I’d feel inadequate.”

“I’m sure you’re a perfectly acceptable…” he gave a small laugh at the manner of conversation we were having. “Killer.”

“Am I allowed to know who it was?”

“Hadriana. She was Danarius’ apprentice, for want of a better word.”

“She was meant to take you back,” I realised. “Will he send someone else?”

“He’ll likely come himself.”

I slipped the chain off the hook and opened the gate enough to let us both through.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ve been running for three years. This is nothing new.”

“He’s sent others?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Well. If you need me. Anything. I’m here. I want you to feel safe.” I frowned. “You know you can ask anything of me, don’t you? You’re allowed to ask that.” I felt that I’d just repeated myself. “This, here. You’re allowed to call this home.” I wanted him to call it home. I wanted him to never leave, but more, I wanted him to never want to leave. If he had to leave he could just leave behind a recording of his voice.

“You’re a handsome man, but not as smooth as the stories suggest.”

I blinked. “You… Pardon?” I teased, covering for myself as I tried to catch up with what he’d said. “What was that? You think I’m…?”

“Your ears work well enough,” he said. “I thought it was time to repay the same compliment you’ve given me.”

“That warms my heart, it truly does.” His voice did that anyway, and his voice paying me compliments was even better.

He looked at me seriously, uncertain of my glib tone. “I mean it.”

I bit my lip and looked away. I wanted to consume him, then and there, to press our bodies together in an effort to never forget him. I looked away at the shadowy trees seated in fog. “Fenris, today you had your hand inside of a woman’s chest. You ripped out her heart. Still-beating, if my most ghastly of thoughts are true.”

“And you’re going to pretend you're not turned on at all?” I stared at him. He was teasing me. The bastard. I didn’t know he even had it him him.

“I’m just saying I know all about bad decisions made in the heat of action and I don’t want to be, uhh-” my voice was swallowed by his mouth, his lips smooth and sweet. I knew mine were rough, my mouth probably sour. The last thing I had drunk was coffee, and that had been hours ago.

I pulled away, his lips chasing me so I turned my head.

“Fen, this,” I blinked at him. “Is this really want you want?”

“Maker, yes,” he breathed, and he shoved me again against the wall. “I’m a free man. I can do anything I like.”

That made me remember how he looked, white hair pushed back and eyes ablaze, blood up to his elbows. He was right. It turned me on, a lot. I kissed him fiercely, my hands at my sides and straining to touch him. I refused to do that. I was afraid he’d duck away. I was afraid that he’d decide that this wasn’t what he wanted.

He grabbed my hands, clumsily intertwining our fingers, his chest against mine and lips earnestly chasing mine as he, again, shoved me into the wall. His tongue was sweet, his lips full and warm. He even smelled divine, and I wanted to lick every inch of his skin, etching his taste into my memory. I wanted to keep this moment with me forever.

Except.

“Hey, Fen,” he kissed me, my head pressed against the hard wood. I could scarcely move, he held me so firmly. “Couldn’t we take this a little softer on my skull?”

He pulled away, suddenly nervous and worried that he’d pushed too far, so I followed him to nip at his lips, kissing the soft stubble of his cheek. Walking up that hill seemed an impossibility at that moment, but my body felt cold and light without the warm weight of his body pressed against it, and I was desperate to have him close on me again. “The stable, perhaps?”

 

The darkness closed around us. I could smell dust and hay and horses, and him. The tack room was locked, the kitchen too far away. I pulled open the feed room door and he crowded against me, hands tight on my hips, our lips still mashed together, his tongue still devouring me. Something hit the back of my legs and I sat down with a thunk on a bag of grain, jolting us both.

His hands ran up my sides and then hesitated just slightly, just enough that I noticed. He tried to cover it up by kissing my face, my cheekbone, a safe, gender-neutral space. I greedily twisted my head to catch his lips again, trying to pretend as though his hands hadn’t stilled on my ribcage, as though I could distract him.

“Maker,” he sighed. “Is this your kink?”

I chuckled into the underside of his jaw. It was strange, sitting down, him above me.

“I was never one for religion.” An idea hit me. Something that would put it off. The awkwardness. His complete realisation of what kind of person I was. I flicked my thumb meaningfully down beneath the hem of his black jeans. “But I’m willing to worship on my knees.” My thumb brushed something on his skin, something rigid and rough. He flinched away. “If you’ll let me,” I added, leaning back to study his face.

“You want,” he hesitated in an attempt to gather his thoughts. “To. That.” He licked his lips, a surreptitious, nervous motion. “To me?”

“Are you okay with that?” I asked. I unhooked my thumb but pressed the smooth line of his hipbone through the material. All we’d done was kiss. This was too fast, too much for him. “Or we can stop, or… whatever. Whatever you want,” I said softly.

He looked away, trying to organise his voice. I knew it was difficult to ask for something when you weren’t used to voicing desires.

“Really?” he asked, catching my eye on the last syllable. “I’ve never,” he cleared his throat in embarrassment, and I leaned away.

The distance helped him focus. He blinked, his eyes softening as they looked at me.

“Really?” he repeated.

“I would love to,” I smiled, and kissed him, softly.

I slid down his body, running my hands from his shoulders and over his chest as I went. He was still clothed, his shirt smooth beneath my fingers, and his boot shifted next to my knee. I looked up at him, hands resting lightly on his hips.

“Will you let me?” I asked. Pedantic, I know, but I needed to check again. He canted his hips towards me with a needy groan.

“Please,” he said, his voice gruff, his stance awkward from the way I was kneeling and the way his trousers were bulged out tightly. I licked my lips, almost nervous in my need to take him in my mouth. I wasn’t looking at him; I was watching my fingers trace their way across the expanse to his trousers. His shirt fluttered with a sharp intake of breath as I pressed my lips to that bulge, soft to the first touch and then hard as I pressed a little more with my lips, mouthing the material.

His first blow job. I wanted to peel off every layer of his clothes slowly, I wanted to trace my tongue over him and learn the taste of every slope of his skin.

In that moment I was certain I was in love with him, and had never been in love before and never would be again.

I wanted to consume him.

I tugged up his shirt and pressed my hand flat against the smooth hard muscle of his stomach, and stopped. There were marks there that didn’t belong to skin. I tugged up higher to take a look at his stomach. Immediately his hand grabbed mine.

“Don’t,” he ordered. “Not now. You’ll ruin it.” I licked my lips before nodding slowly. Obediently I ignored the raised patterns across his skin and ran my fingers down to unhook the button of his pants. His zipper was loud, and I traced my fingers gently up his thigh to the waistband to pull his pants down. His skin was cool on my lips, and tasted delicious. There was a trace of rough hair running down, and I licked the unblemished skin that ran beside it, nuzzled his stomach, moaned a little in desire.

“Nat.”

I stopped immediately, pulling back and dropping my hands, embarrassed for making such a needy noise when there were no hands on my body.

“Hurry it up?” he said in a heavy voice. He pushed down his pants as he said it, and without any further delays I pressed my lips to the head of his rigid cock. He sighed loudly, jerking his hips in a shallow motion, trying to temper his desire to thrust into my mouth. I didn’t want that. I wanted him to give in. I wanted him to enjoy every moment without thinking he had to control himself.

With purpose I rang my tongue over his slit and down the smooth skin. I grabbed hold of his arse firmly and opened my mouth, swallowing as I took him in. He made a deep throated groan that I mirrored, hand light on my hair.

He seemed to not quite know what to do, so I curled my fingers around the base of his cock and slid my mouth down him, then drew him out and licked along his length with luxurious motions. For just a second his fingers tightened, his hips jerked. His only warning was a grunting moan, but I swallowed easily and took my time licking him clean.

Fenris was breathing loudly, and didn’t know what to say.

“Good?” I asked.

“Yes. Maker,” he sighed, fingers running down my face to curl under my jaw as I stood up. He looked vulnerable, his face oddly devoid of his usual near-aggression. The only thing he was focusing on was me. I wasn’t sure if he’d want me to kiss him, and held back. He seemed to take a moment to decide, and then all in a rush he took my face in both hands and kissed me hard, until we were both gasping for air and I couldn’t care about anything except the taste of him. 


	11. Chapter 11

It took a while to go our separate ways, him to his room and me to mine. I wanted to invite him in but he hadn’t wanted to do more than have a heavy makeout session in the hay, with me not touching him half as much as I liked and him seeming to want to keep his hands off me in solidarity.

I didn’t want to push my luck. We had time, and I was willing to take it slow if it meant being able to keep him.

Of course there was the hint of uncertainty lingering like a nasty aftertaste in my throat. I was used to people turning me down. Guys - people - they didn’t know how to handle me. They didn’t know what to expect. Whenever I told someone that I wasn’t born this way they gave me a funny look as though I was hiding a hoard of redback spiders in my pants. Fenris was different, though. I doubted he was ready for another person so close to him, let alone someone like me, and I wanted to give him time to adjust. I was willing to give him some time to get used to the fact that he had someone willing to go down him before I began to press the desire for reciprocation.

We had kissed and talked and walked and come back finally to the house where we kissed some more before we separated to our respective rooms. For the first time Batman wasn’t sure who to follow, but I sent him after Fenris. Dead or not, the demons engraved into his skin weren’t just going to disappear.

I got myself off, alone, to the memory of how he felt stretching out my mouth, his scent surrounding me, and his voice.

His voice.

I fell asleep to hazy dreams filled with lightning tattoos and the sleek euphonious tone of his voice.

 

I woke to the shrill shriek of my phone.

I clambered around in bed, finding myself in the empty space Batman no longer occupied to find my phone fallen on the floor, along with the other pillow.

“You woke me,” I snapped. I was a light sleeper and an early riser. Waking me up in the morning was a feat.

“I’m sorry,” said Anders. I sat up. His voice was gravelly like it always was in the morning.

“What is it? Who is it?” I began casting around for pants. No call this early in the morning spelled anything good.

“It’s Fenris.”

I hesitated.

“Yes?”

“He’s at Aveline’s.”

I blinked, rubbing sleep from my eyes and processing that statement.

“Why are you calling me?”

“Because she called me. She didn’t know what to do.”

“But she lives miles away, and Fenris doesn’t drive.” I rolled across the bed and pushed the curtains aside. Both my little red Honda and my truck were sitting there. “Did he walk there?”

“Nearly. He went to a pay phone and Don picked him up.” I fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “What happened, Nat?”

Anders was my best friend, my favourite person in the whole world, nearly. Except, perhaps, for Fenris.

“Nothing,” I protested.

“Nat,” he said gently. “What happened?”

I gave a one shouldered shrug, studying the shadows on the ceiling. 

“He killed the man who used to rape and torture him, and then I gave him a blow job.” Anders made a strangled noise. We'd never had much opportunity to discuss each other's kinks. “I’m aware that it’s not the proper way to congratulate someone on finally throwing off the chains of slavery, but it seemed appropriate at the time.”

There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

“Are you taking this at all seriously?”

I wanted to reach through the phone and slap him.

“I am. Of course I am! But what am I meant to do? He left of his own accord. I can’t drag him back. He’s a free man, not mine to order about.”

“Apparently he said he doesn’t know if he wants to see you again.”

I felt an ice-cold stake being slowly driven through my gut. “Well, I’ll call Bethany,” I attempted to make my voice cheery. “Else Isabela and I will handle on our own. I’m sure we can. It used to be only me here, I’ve just become complacent.”

“Nat,” said Anders. I kept blithely on.

“Aurum won’t mind being put out in the paddock for a few days rest, though perhaps Helen can ride him. She is ready for a bigger horse, and Aurum will give her a new set of challenges than she’s used to.”

“Hawke!” snapped Andy. “Please.”

I took a deep breath. “Has he got Batman?”

“Yes. Aveline said he can stay there as long as he needs. Did he really...” Anders hesitated. He didn’t know much about my life except that there were some things I didn’t want to tell him. He hadn’t pushed. “Was he really?” he tried again.

“He was a slave,” I said in a flat voice.

“Oh.” There was a pause. “Aveline said Don thinks he should keep riding.”

“So do I,” I said firmly. I had repeated the same sentiment to countless parents and students over the years. Horses kept you sane. Horses kept you focused. Horses gave you confidence. They’d teach Fenris how to be strong. “If he wants, Aurum will be here. If he doesn’t want me to be here, I can do that, too. Just tell me what he needs and I’ll do it.”

“Are you alright?” asked Anders. “I don’t care about him, I want you to be okay,” he added, when I didn’t answer.

“I don’t know. I’ll be alright. Can I - it’s bloody early. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Do you want to come over?”

“I don’t know,” I said. Making plans at that moment seemed too out of my reach. The phone felt hot and heavy in my hand. Anders said a sad goodbye and I let it slip onto the bedsheets.

I lay there for a while. The house felt awful and empty.

“Nothing for it, Nat,” I said. I itched vacantly at the scars on my chest. “Get up.”

I didn’t get up.

“He’s gone. Get up.”

I could hear the words and knew the wisdom behind them. I wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep.

“Get up you useless, lazy sod. You’ve been through worse. Get. Up.”

 

Arishok was surprised to see me, lifting his great head and staring at me in a regal manner from across the paddock. I growled at one of the ponies who came to sniff at me, and then immediately grabbed her by the mane to scratch her neck in apology. Most usually one brought a horse in from the paddock to be brushed and saddled, but Arishok didn’t do much more than flick an ear at me as I did the same thing on the dewy grass. It felt terribly lonely without Batman. Even Fenris.

But I had known him for only a little over a month. It wasn’t really any time at all. I wasn’t meant to feel his absence so quickly.

Arishok snorted at a pony who came to stand too close, and then I mounted. I hadn’t bothered to change out of my pyjamas, only to throw a jacket on over the thin blue material. I just needed to ride.

It used to be that I’d keep my emotions in check through a careful balance of work and alcohol and men, and before that I had antidepressants.

I know all about therapy.

I’ve had counsellors and psychologists and psychiatrists and once, bizarrely, a priest. My mother’s latent Catholicism showing through there, though she balked at the idea of sending me to the Rabbi when my father’s side of the family suggested it. I’ve tried the range of antidepressants on hand, I’ve done yoga and played football, done the early morning hikes and the late night meditation. I’ve self-medicated both with alcohol and more illicit drugs. I tried smoking for a while, but it didn’t stick. None of it really did.

Varric’s often asked me for the story of how I fell into my work, and the answer is, I don’t rightly know. At school they tell you to find something you’re good at, something you love, and do that.

And, well.

They probably didn’t mean to encourage me, but I really took that kind of thing to heart. I like not having a 9-5 job. I like the freedom to choose my own work. I’m good at breaking and entering, I’m good at creeping.

I liked the money.

I really liked the money.

I grew up modestly lower-middle class, which wasn’t exactly difficult. I was very aware that people had it worse than us, but I was very aware that other people had it better. The Amell family wasn’t a silent force even from our place in Ferelden, and seeing their lavish lifestyle was difficult when we knew it could have been ours.

Then my father got on the wrong side of some bad people, and things had gone from bad to worse. The twins had still been in school. Carver wanted to quit, but I refused to let him.

Killing people is easy. Killing people for money is a little more difficult, because you have to find someone to pay you, but I managed to make it work. I never officially worked for the government. Not from any political high ground, they just didn’t pay well.

Retirement changed all that. I had horses, now. They’re my therapy and my meagre source of income rolled into one.

The trees were flecked with silvery droplets of dew, and the sun rose cold and shaky through the winter clouds. I rode into the woods and let Arishok take the familiar path, up and down and twisting round down the hills into the valley that smelled damp in the early hour.

When I got back, face red and the legs of my pyjamas flecked with mud, Aveline was waiting for me. She looked at me with a pity that I could scarcely stand, and I told her what had happened with Hadriana as quickly as I could.

“Are you alright?” she asked, finally, before she left me alone.

“Please, Aveline. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow?”

“I,” Thursday. Right. “Yeah,” I said. I hadn’t cancelled on dinner yet, but I felt that it could be a first. “You are going to make this mess with Hadriana go away, aren’t you? I just don’t want Fen,” I swallowed. It was wrong to call him that. “Fenris. I don’t want Fenris to suffer from what he’s been through.” Suffer any more than he already had.

“Of course,” said Aveline. “If you need anything, I’m always here.”

I smiled at her. It had been a pained smile, but a smile nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks passed. They passed slowly and in a stupor of grey. I didn’t see Fenris.

There was a knock on my office door, and I glanced up from the stack of paper I was transcribing to my computer.

“Hey, Andy.” He picked up a stack of papers and placed them on the ground, and then sat on the now vacant chair. “What brings you here?”

“I feel as though I haven’t seen you in a while.”

I pushed my hair away from my forehead and looked seriously at him.

“You’re here every night for Feynriel. On Monday you insisted on dropping by for both breakfast and supper, and you were here again yesterday morning to borrow my Playstation. I don’t have a Playstation. I never have. You know that.”

Andy grinned at me. His hair was loose around his face, his eyes bright. “Like I said. It’s been ages. I’ve been at the clinic for a month. You promised I could have a cat.”

“You’re going to stay on, then?”

“You seem surprised.”

I shrugged. “I am, a little. I thought you’d stick it out for the month and then back out.”

“Megan’s a good boss, and I do like the work. Surgery more than talking to clients, though.” He frowned. “The other day I had someone complaining about a cat who would pee all over their house. I asked if they had a litterbox. They said no. I asked if they let him outside to do his business. Yes, once a day.” He shook his head in despair. “But then a Maine Coon came in. They’re so fluffy!”

“You are not getting a Maine Coon,” I warned. “It would be as big as Sten.” Sten was an elderly miniature horse, and was less than a metre tall at the wither.

“I know,” he said easily. “Cats come through all the time. I thought I’d pick one of the kittens we’d send off to the shelter.” He smiled happily at me. He looked tired, but he looked good. Content with life, and that was nice to see. His life hadn’t been particularly easy.

“A kitten?” I shook my head aggressively. “I’m not going to look after a kitten.”

“It’ll be fine,” assured Anders. “She will learn to grow up strong and independent. She can sleep with Puffin if it’s cold.”

My eyes went wide. “He’ll crush the thing! I’ll make up a box. It can sleep on my patio.” Andy grinned at me, and I scowled. I felt that this was his plan all along, to turn me into a cat person. I felt a nasty premonition. “Do you have one picked out? You do, don’t you.” Still grinning, Anders stood up, left the office a moment, and came back with a cat carrier.

“Nat,” he said, “Meet Lady Fluffikins.”

“Fluffikins,” I said dryly. I held out my hands, and was given a pile of fluff. It moved, and I felt sharp, tiny claws dig into my skin. Big brown eyes blinked at me from a grey face. My brain suddenly stopped working.

“She’s so cute!” I cried. “Ahem. Uh. You’re probably going to have to groom her. Especially since she’ll be an outside cat.”

“I know,” said Anders. He looked like a mix between a proud father and a giddy little kid. I offered the cat back to him, and immediately she began to crawl under his chin and bury herself in his collar. He giggled, and I raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll give you some food. I’ll feed her, but - kitty, please!” he disentangled her from his clothes and set her down into his lap. Immediately Lady Fluffikins began climbing his shirt. “In case you’re not here. She’s big enough to eat real food but,” I interrupted him.

“Carver had a cat, once. I know how to look after them.”

Andy fumbled. “Oh. Is. Is this alright, then?” He never knew how to talk about Carver to me, since I avoided the topic so studiously.

“It’s fine,” I said. “And with Batman gone,” I licked my lips. It wasn’t just Batman who was gone, “it might be nice to have something else around. But she’s not sleeping inside. Batman doesn’t shed, but that,” I gestured at the ball of fluff that had made its way to Andy’s shoulder, “that will clog the sink.”

Andy pulled her gently from the material and cradled her in his hands.

“Come on, kitty,” he said. “Let’s go meet the horses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> It's coming into exam season for me, so updates will still be a little slow. However, those updates will include Zevran! So, little bit of bad, little bit of good.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh sorry that this has been a while coming, and sorry again because the next chapter will also be while coming. I promise that I will not forget this story, though. Much love to you all, thank you so much for reading.

Anders lay on the couch with the kitten on his chest, idly flicking through channels. I had been relegated to the house because Fenris was at the stables. Isabela and quietly taken me aside and told me it would probably be better if I weren’t there. She and Fenris were getting along, according to Merrill, and I wasn’t sure if that should bother me or not. Anders told me it shouldn’t, but he’d stopped channel surfing to watch Dr. Phil, so it’s not as though his opinion was worth much.

“Sit down,” he snapped at me. “You’re making me nervous.”

“But he’s only new at it.”

“Isabela is actually a good teacher,” said Anders. “Much as it pains me to say. He’ll be fine. I hear he’s coming along really well.”

“Should I talk to him?” I started towards the door. “I should talk to him.”

“You should not talk to him,” said Anders loudly.

“But he’s right there!”I protested. “And he just left. It’s been a whole week, Andy.”

“We didn’t talk for a week after we broke up.”

“We’re not broken up! We were never together!” I paused in my nervous pacing. “Anyway, we didn’t talk because you went to Anderfels, and lost your phone at the airport.”

“Well, sure,” said Anders, stroking Lady Fluffikins’ head. “But we didn’t talk.”

“We talked before you went. Do you know why he left?” I continued on. “Have you spoken to him?” Anders shook his head, muted the TV and twisted to look at me.

“Isabela’s been talking to him. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Is it,” I frowned. “Me. You know.” Anders took a moment to figure out what I meant. He started to shake his head, and then paused.

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”

“Right,” I said, starting towards the door again.

“No! No, no,” Anders jumped up, cat in one hand, and grabbed me. “Leave him alone. He needs to figure this out himself.”

I looked at him forlornly. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me to the couches. “Look,” he said, sitting us both down. The cat, disgruntled with the movement, moved to a cushion. I’d modified my rules to let her inside so long as she was sitting on Andy’s lap, but for now I ignored her. “He needs space. He needs to figure out what he wants, and you getting in his face probably won’t help.”

“But what if the problem is,” the words stuck in my throat. There had never been a problem with Anders. It hadn’t been until we were in my bedroom that I even thought to mention the fact that I’m trans, and he’d just shrugged it off and asked which drawer I kept my toys in.

“I don’t think it’s a problem,” said Andy. “He’s never mentioned that there’s a problem. I think it’s just all too new for him. Like when you found out that Barry Humphries acted the Goblin King in The Hobbit. It’s just too much for you to take in.”

I slumped forward. “And I’m too much.”

Anders slapped me on the shoulder. “Stop that. You’re great. You know you’re great. I thought you were over this angst.”

“So did I,” I said mournfully. We sat a few minutes in silence, then I straightened up. “No. You’re right. You’re right! He can do his own thing. Not my problem. If he wants me, he knows where to find me.” I frowned at the cat on the cushion. “What did I say about her being on the furniture?”

 

* * *

 

Time passed. A few weeks. A month. Fenris had faded from my life. Donnic didn’t mention him at poker night, Aveline never talked about him to me… It was almost as though the strange tattooed man had never been in my life. Almost. He was still there in the cracks and the corners, emerging in the corner of my eye and disappearing the moment I turned my head to look.

I hadn’t spoken to him. I hadn’t heard his voice.

I was trying to be okay, but I was finding it more difficult than I liked. I didn’t want to be hung up on a guy, not one that wanted to be ignored. He wanted to be left alone so I left him alone, but I wasn’t happy about it.

This, the separation between myself and Fenris, lasted until Varric’s birthday, which I hadn’t remembered but he informed me in no uncertain terms that I would be there. I tried to protest, and he ignored me, so I cleared the evening to join Varric in his celebrations at The Hanged Man. I still left it as late as I could allow, carefully shaving and dressing and then, when I was ready, tidying the kitchen and making my bed merely to put it off even longer.

I had no qualms about seeing my friends. It was Fenris I wasn’t prepared for.

I missed him. I missed having him around in the house, I missed making breakfast for him, I missed having him with me while we fed the horses in the morning and brought in Puffin and Nancy at night.

I didn’t like missing him. I was very determined to not leave my life hanging for someone who was still figuring out their’s.

Eventually I got a text message complaining at my lack of presence and I lied, claiming I was at a traffic light only minutes away. Childishly, once I was actually at the pub, I put it off even longer by ordering a drink based solely on the fact that the bottle was empty and the bartender had to go look for another out the back. I looked with some trepidation at the stairs to Varric’s room.

“Nathiru?” said a familiar voice. I jolted at the name. No one called me by that name. I cautiously looked around. “Nat! It is you.”

“Zevran.” The handsome, ever-cheery face grinned at me. I stared. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Oh, just seeing the sights. The usual.” I raised an eyebrow. Zevran wasn’t exactly the regular sort of tourist. “You?”

“I live here.”

He did a mock double-take. “You - live? In a house?”

I chuckled, resting my elbow on the bartop. “That’s me. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, carport. The works.”

“I heard you retired. I didn’t believe it.”

“Believe it, it’s true. You’re still in the life, I presume.”

He gave a wide-mouthed grin. “Where else would I go?”

My drink finally arrived, handed to me with a terse frown. Zevran insisted on paying.

“Are you here for anything important? We should have a drink together,” he said. I glanced at the stairs.

“I would love that. Believe me. Except, I’m here to see some friends.” A flash of inspiration hit me. “Why don’t you join us?”

“Oh, I would hate to impose.”

“No, no, not at all!” I cried, grabbing his elbow. I was thinking only of having someone to distract me from Fenris. “I’m sure you have some great stories to tell. Just keep them open source.”

“Of course,” Zevran stumbled along behind me. “Wouldn’t dream of revealing anything classified.”

I led him upstairs and got as far as introducing Varric, who berated me for being late, and Isabela who, predictably, interrupted my introductions to ask how if Zevran were a friend or something more.

“He wishes,” I droned, and she scooted her chair closer to his.

“How do you know Nat?”

“We used to work together,” Zevran said with a toothy smile.

Varric immediately interrupted Isabela’s attempts to flirt. “You say you worked with Nat? I would like to pick your brain. There is so much he does not tell me.”

“Or any of us,” said Isabela. “I hardly know what he did before he kept horses.”

“You keep horses now? I’m actually not very surprised. I remember a great chase over the Bannorn. You kept an excellent seat.”

“Sometimes I forget you come from Ferelden,” said Anders. Zevran glanced at me, wanting an introduction.

“Anders, Zevran. He’s a veterinarian. And this is,” I finally looked at him. My voice caught in my throat a little, but managed to choke out his name. “This is Fenris.”

Zevran had lifted himself out of his chair slightly to shake Andy’s hand, but at Fenris’ name he paused, hand outstretched, still half standing. “Fenris?”

“That’s me,” he said, the first words I had heard from his throat in such a long time.

“From Tevinter?”

“Yes.”

Zevran sat down heavily.

“You don’t look pleased by that,” growled Fenris. Of perhaps his voice was always been that low-throated animalistic sound. It had been so long.

Zevran leaned towards me and said in a hushed voice, “I’m here for him.”

The others did not hear him, or did not understand him, but I knew what he meant even before the words were fully out. I grabbed Zevran and had him pressed against the wall, my hand around his throat. Our chairs clattered to the floor.

“I didn’t know,” he choked out. “I swear, Nathiru. I didn’t know.” I dug my fingers into the soft flesh of his throat. He didn’t try to fight, though at our best we had been evenly matched at now, with me retired, he could have beaten me off easily. “I didn’t know you lived here.”

“Give up the contract,” I hissed.

“My reputation demands-”

My nails dug in, cutting him off. I could feel his pulse heavy against my fingers.

“Hang your reputation,” I gritted out, “or I’ll hang you.”

“I can’t.” I debated whether I had the strength to rip his head from his shoulders right then and there. “A deal, we can make a deal. His life for your help.”

“What help?” I growled.

“Help me with the Crows.”

For a long moment we glared at each other, but I would have agreed to help him if it meant saving the life of any of my friends. I relented, and let him down. He coughed at the release of his neck, rubbing at the dents I had left there. He took a gulp of his drink.

My friends were watching us both warily. Varric was taking down notes on a scrap of paper. I righted my chair and sat down heavily.

“Does anyone care to explain what just happened?” asked Anders.

“I for one would certainly enjoy having it explained to me,” said Fenris.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, pushing my hand through my hair.

“I feel like I only just escaped with my life. I deserve to know why.”

“Can we talk about this in private?” I snapped back.

“Andy, come get a drink with me,” said Isabela hastily. Anders looked at me, and I gave a curt nod.

“Can I stay?” asked Varric. “It’s my birthday.”

“I think not,” said Zevran.

“I’ll just tell him later.” Varric grinned widely, and I glared. “So long as you’re quiet.”

We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a bit.

“Who set the contract?”

“Melissa.”

“She still -?”

“Yeah,” he interrupted.

“How much?”

“The usual, plus travel, expenses, the like.”

“The usual for you, or me?”

Zevran took a moment out of our rapid-fire conversation to scoff. “Me, of course.”

“Are you going to explain this, or are you just going to talk in riddles all evening?” snapped Fenris. I didn’t want to meet his eye. Zevran saved me.

“I’ve been hired to kill you.” Fenris was silent. “You’re not surprised. That’s good. Sometimes people are.”

“Hawke.” My name on his tongue startled me enough to finally meet his eye. “You knew.”

“I did not,” I protested. “I met Zevran down at the bar. I didn’t know he was here.”

“I didn’t know Nat was here,” added Zevran. Fenris glared at the interrupting and he added in a mumble, “for what it’s worth.”

“About the contract. On my life.”

“What? No! Did you see what I just did?” I cried. “My hands around his throat. Did no one see that? And he could kill me in an instant.”

“You’ve gotten weak,” teased Zevran in a mutter. “It’s no skin off my nose refusing the contract,” he continued, more loudly. “Except other people will be hired. I am very good at my job, but there are others, and assassinating someone only takes one moment of inattention on their part.”

“Who are the Crows?”

“My,” Zevran hesitated. “Former crowd. They do not take desertion easily.”

“I thought you killed them?” I interjected, curious.

“Ah, but I do not have the protection of a King, now, do I?”

“Alistair was protecting you?”

“His wife likes me.” There was a hint of bitterness to his voice, scarcely noticeable except that I knew Zevran well enough to see past his cheery facade.

“Stop!” commanded Fenris. “I do not understand what you are talking about.”

Varric broke into the moment’s silence. “You know the King of Fereldan?”

“We travelled together. We are friends, I suppose.”

“Before he married Jana,” I surmised.

“You know the Queen?” spluttered Varric. “You have not got to telling me that part of your story, yet.”

“Who hired you?” interrupted Fenris.

“I have a go-between. I very rarely meet clients face to face. Melissa gave me this information, and I have not been to this part of the world in, well, ever. I do not like slavery, and this city reeks of it, but I thought I might as well visit if I were getting paid for it.”

“I was a slave,” said Fenris in a hard tone. “I escaped. My former master followed me here, and I killed him.” Zevran blinked, and leaned back in his seat.

“I apologise, then, for everything you have been through, and for adding to that.”

Fenris looked doubtful. I didn’t blame him. Zevran came across as slimy and dishonest. It had taken me a while to realise that he was one of the most honourable men I had the good fortune to know, and it was only that his moral compass did not quite match up with what people were used to. He was an assassin. He never apologised for that, and he rarely tried to dress it up as something other than what it was.

“And how do you know Hawke?”

This time, I noticed he had said my surname, not my first name. Zevran glanced at me, and I shrugged. There didn’t seem to be much point keeping the secret.

“We used to work together.”

“You didn’t work for the police.”

I shook my head in admission. “I killed people for money.”

“Why?”

“My family needed the money.”

“Do they know?”

I let out a laugh that I strangled into a snort. “Maker! No! They thought I was doing something illegal, but when I befriended Aveline they decided that it was all on the level.”

“And was it?”

I glanced at Zevran, fidgeted slightly, and then spoke. “I sold everything I knew to keep myself safe. Assassins themselves are less interesting to the law than the people who hire them.”

“No honour amongst thieves,” Fenris gritted out when Zevran said nothing. He didn’t know Zevran as well as I did, and I didn’t know Zevran all that well. Still, I knew that Zevran prized secrecy and would not take my sharing easily.

“There is honour,” said Zevran. “It is merely not what you are used to.”

“Can we come up, yet?” called Isabela.

“Should I go?” asked Zevran.

“I’ll feel safest with you in front of me,” said Fenris. Ascertaining that the worst was over I called the others up the stairs, Isabela bounding in with glee that Zevran had not gone. She called immediate attention to his tattoos, and I leaned back in my seat mulling over what had just happened. The Crows. I hated the Crows. In Antiva assassination was the standard method of promotion, and Zevran had always worked for them. Until he stopped.

I felt Fenris looking at me, and caught his eye. ‘You alright?’ I mouthed. He started before nodding slowly. I gave a strained smile.

I had no desire to fight the Crows. 

 

 

I walked out of The Hanged Man with Zevran, the others meandering behind us organising how to split a cab.

“Do you have a place to stay?” I asked.

“Are you offering?” Zevran winked. He didn’t need to wink, I knew the intention behind the remark. I’d had a chance to sleep with him before and I often regretted turning it down. I opened my mouth to say yes, please, when Fenris’ voice broke in from behind us. I leaned back away from Zevran, and he gave a weak smile. “It’s a no, again.”

“Yes,” I sighed. Whatever I had with Fenris was gone. There was no sense in refusing something I wanted.

And yet.

“I understand,” said Zevran. “I’m disappointed, but I understand.”

“I don’t think,” I began, wanting to explain how it was all broken and ruined and there was no chance there anyway, and I was just being foolish and hopeful. Isabela interrupted.

“Nat! Have you got a car?”

“I do.” I looked at the trio suspiciously.

“I spent all my money on beer,” said Anders. He was swaying slightly, which was the only reason I believed that he had, probably, spent all his money on beer. Anders was very difficult to get even tipsy. “Can you drive me home?”

“Fenris needs you to drive him home, too.”

“If you have a bed to offer, I would not refuse it,” said Zevran.

Right, of course. Nothing I’d like more. Anders, who I had slept with. Zevran, whose tattoos had often infiltrated my dreams. And Fenris with his voice of sex and his avoidance of me. All together in the same car.

“Sure,” I grinned. It was a grin that I forced onto my face. “I’ll drive you home. I’ll see you Monday, Isabela?”

“Night, honey-bear.” Isabela gave me a kiss on the cheek. She didn’t usually do that, so clearly I looked rather forlorn. She retreated back into The Hanged Man, abandoning me to the three men.

“Right,” I forced another grin. “Let’s get going. Who’s closest?”

It was decided to take Fenris home first. Decided by Fenris, that is, and I felt certain that it was only because he couldn’t stand to be in the car with me any longer than he absolutely had to be. I was more than surprised when he asked me to accompany him to the door.

I unbuckled my seat belt and left the car in a state of mild shock. We reached the door before he said anything. He fumbled with the key in the lock and then, without opening the door, said, “I’m sorry.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry. For all of this. I have caused so many problems.”

“No, you haven’t. He is, as you say, my friend. If I heard wind of the matter I would have offered even without your involvement.” I felt stiff and formal at his side, unsure how to hold myself, where to put my hands, what words to say.

“I will help you. Whatever task it is. I will help.”

“The Antivan Crows are a group of assassins. They’re difficult to find and difficult to kill.”

“I was created to kill,” said Fenris. He held out his hands, the white tattoos along the palms stark against his dark skin in the soft streetlights. I wanted to kiss them. “These were decoration to make me pretty while I destroyed lives.” The scorn was heavy in his voice. I still wanted to kiss them. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to taste the inside of his mouth. The texture of the underside of his jaw was forgotten to me. I couldn’t remember if his hair was coarse or soft. I balled my hand into a fist and pressed the nails into my hand.

“Okay,” I breathed. I wasn’t sure I had the mental capacity to argue further and I knew Fenris was stubborn to the core. “I’ll let you know what’s planned.”

I turned to go but he grabbed my hand, the one not in a first cutting at my skin in attempt to keep from touching him. His hand was warm over my fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything else.”

I gave a shaky nod. “Whatever you need, Fenris.” Unable to trust my voice any further, I walked away.

 

 

Zevran got undressed in front of me, walking around the living room, into the kitchen, and back to the spare bedroom as he stripped his clothes and fumbled his way into new ones. We’d travelled together, he and I, and it wasn’t the first time I’d seen all the tattoos tumbling down his back and curving over his chest. He kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling me of his travels and letting me interject with a few stories of my own. Mine sounded positively mundane compared to his, but when he finally finished combing out his hair with his fingers and fell back onto my couch he sighed and looked up at me.

“Your life sounds fun. Can I stay here a bit?”

I stared.

“You’re joking.”

“No, really. I’m sure there’s some work I could pick up in a city like this, and everything you were describing, well, I don’t like horses, but I like the idea of a farm.”

“I doubt you’ll be going very far as long as you’ve enlisted me to help fight the Crows. I am warning you, as soon as Varric’s woken up he will be here to question you about everything you’ve ever done in your life.”

“I am not very good at weaving tales,” he sighed. “If only Leliana were here.” I didn’t know the woman, but I had heard plenty about her. “She could spin a tale as easily as old women knit.” He pulled himself up off the couch, lithe body older than I remembered but still handsome despite the harsh lights of my living room. “I’m going to get my five hours shut-eye. Unless,” his voice drifted off.

I shook my head. “No. And I’m sorry for it.”

“As am I,” he smiled at me from the mouth of the hallway. “But I understand. If I thought I had a chance with someone like that I’d be turning me down, too.”

“I don’t think I have a chance.”

“Ah, well,” he gave a crooked smile. “We’re all fools in love. Sleep well, without me.”

I pulled off my clothes in the privacy of my own room, scratched at the faded scars across my chest, ran a hand through my short hair, my softly stubbled jaw, and crawled into bed. My very empty, very cold bed. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, there are so many different types of procrastination. Exercise for procrastination. Cooking for procrastination. Cleaning for procrastination. Writing fanfiction for procrastination. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this chapter far more than I am enjoying the assignment I procrastinated to write it.

A dog bounded into the kitchen while I waited for my bread to toast.

“Batman!” I cried, kneeling down and wrapping my arms around the great beast. He licked my face and neck eagerly, and I gave a high pitched giggle at the feel of his tongue. “What are you doing here? I haven’t cooked any bacon. Do you want some?”

I opened the fridge to get the dog some bacon.

“Morning, Nat.” The boots were loud on the floor and I knew without turning that it was Varric behind me.

“Morning,” I said. I leaned against the counter to tear the bacon. Batman caught each piece I tossed him with casual ease, gulping it down in time to catch the next torn off bit. “Here to talk to my assassin?”

“I wouldn’t call myself _your_ assassin,” said Zevran, coming into the kitchen and taking my toast just as it popped.

“Oi! Arse.”

“Pretty arse, please.” He began opening cupboards, finally finding my pantry and taking out the jam. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his pants were low on his hips. At least he’d come from the other end of the house, but Varric gave me a curious look nonetheless. I rolled my eyes, washed my hands of the bacon, and put some more bread into the toaster.

“You’re up early,” I commented to Varric. “Do you want some coffee?”

“It was a very bland birthday, all things considered.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Was it even your birthday, or did you just want me out?” He took that moment to begin examining the few magnets I had on the fridge with great intensity. “Come to think of it, I distinctly recall a birthday only a few months ago. How old are you?”

“Uh, thirty six?”

“You turned thirty six a few months ago.”

“Well, now,” said Varric. “I’m old. It’s hard to remember.”

“You bastard!” I laughed.

“It worked out for the best, didn’t it?” asked Zevran. “I’m not killing the man you love.”

I froze, and tried to cover with, “and eating my toast.” He pushed the jam jar over to me and I spread my toast liberally. “Right, I’ve got to feed horses. You two, be good.” I looked intently at Zevran. “No bad stories.”

“I keep secrets. Unlike some, it seems.” I reeled as though he’d punched me in the stomach.

“Horses,” I said, and stamped out of there.

“Bastard,” I said to Batman. I’d missed having the dog next to me, tramping down the paddock to the stables. “Not you. You’re great. I hope he’s been fine.” The dog bumped his shoulder against my leg. “Must be, if I’ve got you again. Did Varric bring you here? Hey, Jasper.” The horse gave me a look that made it quite clear my cheery good morning was not welcome. I laughed, Zevran’s criticism washed away by the fresh air around me, the wet grass beneath me, the dog beside me. The Crows could hang themselves. I had my whole life ahead of me, and I would never again be this young, this free.

I got Batman caught up on all the events (“Anders got a cat. It’s sort of cute, if you’re into that sort of thing. I hope you don’t eat it. Kimberly’s getting along well. I’m going to teach her to jump next lesson. Yes, actually jump, not just trot poles”) and fed the horses. They looked at me with bored expressions and then down at Batman with something close to disdain before turning to their breakfasts, but neither dog nor I cared that they dismissed us so quickly. I chased Batman up the driveway and into the empty stables, panting freely by the time I broke the chase to fiddle with the gate to Arishok’s paddock. The horse didn’t get fed until after I rode him, and he butted his head against me in disagreement of this arrangement. Batman bounded over, tongue lolling and tail wagging. The horse put his ears back and sidled closer to me. I laughed out loud, and took Arishok to the stable to be worked.

I worked Arishok, and by the time I had him washed and rugged and in a stable with his breakfast it was time to work the other horses, and so the morning went. Horse after horse, and then phone calls, and then it was lunch.

Isabela appeared around the same time that Varric and Zevran wandered down the paddock. I was sitting outside the stable in a rare snippet of sunlight, given the time of year, watching the two men and hoping they had food for me. Isabela sat down next to me and stretched her legs out in front of me.

“Maker, aren’t you freezing?” I asked. Sunlight or no, it was cold and I was tucking my chin into my scarf. Isabela, meanwhile, still refused to wear pants.

“No,” she said with a look that indicated she thought I was insane. I wondered if it was something on my face. All the horses had been giving me that same look. She pulled over a milk crate and put her feet on it, leaning back in the plastic lawn chair. “It’s a lovely day.”

“You’re quite insane,” I said simply.

Zevran let his eyes linger obviously on Isabela’s outstretched body before pulling up a chair, and she returned the look. I rolled my eyes and took a sandwich from Varric.

“Well, this is quite lovely,” he said, looking around at the flat sand of the jumping arena beyond us. “You gave it all up for this?”

“I like it,” I said. “Have a good chat?”

Varric nodded happily. “He told me a lot of things. Maybe I’ll write an entire book just based on him.”

“I think The Crows might have your hide for a jacket if you talk like that,” I said. “This is a good sandwich. Who made it?”

“I did,” said Zevran. “And I am quite offended at that look. You do not think I have survived this long off frozen meals and takeaway? This body takes some effort to maintain, I’ll have you know.”

“Vain git,” I teased. Andy’s cat came and wound her way amongst our legs.

“Have we met before?” Zevran said to Isabela. “I recall your face.”

“As I recall yours. Antiva, am I correct? I’m from Rivain myself.”

“Then perhaps we have crossed paths before. How do you come to find yourself so far from home?”

“I ran into some trouble and found it prudent to leave.”

“We have much in common.” I blinked. I knew that sly tone to his voice, the seedy manner in which he leaned forward, long eyelashes framing beautiful eyes. He’d used that voice on me just last night.

“Really, Zevran?” The two of them gave me an innocent look. I rolled my eyes. “Fine, but you’re washing the bedsheets.”

He grinned.

He wasn’t going to wash the sheets. I looked at Batman, who looked at me. Bastard, we both agreed.

“He told me how you two met,” said Varric.

“Oh,” I said disinterestedly, tearing off the crusts and feeding them to Batman. I had missed the dog. He’d missed me, it seemed, which was nice. It was nice to be missed, even if it was by a ferocious ex-police hound. “Did you tell him how you met Alistair?”

“That’s not open source,” said Zevran in a mockingly scandalised voice. “He’d have my guts for garters.”

I paused, imagining Alistair in thigh-high tights and garters. Zevran caught my eye, clearly thinking the same thing, and we burst into laughter.

“Are you thinking about the King of Ferelden in stockings?” asked Isabela. “I would not think he’d be pleased by that.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” admitted Zevran. “But he’s a blushing virgin and a prude to boot.”

“He’s got children!” exclaimed Isabela.

“You’d understand if he met him. Have I told you about the rose?” he asked me. I smirked. I had been told about the rose. It was sweet, in an awkward kind of way that made me glad no one had ever expressed their interest to me in such a way. But I could understand the appeal. Zevran only disliked the man because he’d taken Jana Cousland from him, the now-Queen of Ferelden.

Growing up I’d never thought I’d have an actual opinion on the King of my home country. Royalty was a distant vagueness that never touched my life. And now, well. Zevran didn’t like to kiss and tell, for all that he did an awful lot of kissing, but I knew for a fact he’d had something going on with Jana before she was Queen. It was disconcerting. Royalty were meant to stay in their throne rooms, away from everyday life.

Our little lunch party was interrupted by Batman leaping to his feet at the sound of a car. He pushed past my legs and disappeared into the stable. A few moments later he appeared with a small party following him.

I resisted the urge to leap to my feet at the sight of Fenris. He was not a lady, nor was I a gentleman courting his lover.

“Hey, Don, Aveline. Fenris.”

He gave me a very tense nod and patted Batman on the head. The dog wagged his tail, but quickly returned to my side. Good. At least he knew where his loyalties lay.

“If you were going to come here I didn’t have to pick up the mutt,” Varric complained.

“Oi!” said Fenris and me at the same time. We looked at each other slightly awkwardly. “He’s not a mutt,” I mumbled. “Donnic, Aveline, this is Zevran.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said with a charming grin.

“They’re married and worse than Alistair,” I warned. His smooth smile faltered a little. Aveline coughed awkwardly.

“Fenris has been learning to drive,” offered Donnic.

“Congratulations,” said Varric with feeling.

“Does that mean you can drive Anders and me home next time?” Isabela asked.

Next time? I wondered. Had they been going drinking without me? I frowned, and Isabela gave me a shrug. I suppose I had been moping quite a lot. It still wasn’t fair. I crossed my legs at the ankle in defiance and ate my sandwich.

“I am not allowing the two of you in any car I have control of,” said Fenris. Aveline unstacked some more chairs and we widened the circle for the three of them to sit. The sun had gone behind a cloud and I shivered a little, pushing my scarf closer towards my neck. Fenris, too, seemed to feel the cold, while Isabela blithely continued to recline.

“Are you riding today?” asked Isabela.

“Perhaps. I came to see if Zevran and,” Fenris hesitated, “Nat have any need of me.”

He said my name. I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. Varric had. We smiled at each other, me in triumph and he in sneaky knowing.

“It’s Sunday, so I don’t have lessons tonight. How long do you think this business is going to take?” I asked Zevran. He shrugged.

“I don’t know this city, or where they would be. They are, after all, very good at hiding.”

I turned to Aveline. “Any news of Antivans in town?”

“Nothing that I’ve heard.”

“Is this your new boss?” asked Zevran idly.

“What? No!”

“I doubt anyone could be Nat’s boss,” said Aveline. We ignored her.

“In order to retire I spoke to someone entirely different,” I said carefully. I wasn’t pleased by being forced to speak even this closely about my past in front of people who didn’t know. Except for Varric I’d learned to keep a closed mouth. “Aveline has very little knowledge of what my former job entailed.”

“None of us do,” said Anders. He looked put out by that, but we both had secrets. We had agreed to respect that in each other.

Zevran and I stared each other down. I couldn’t take him in a fight, but he wouldn’t attack me here and now. He was an assassin. We both were, but I was out of the game and he knew all the moves.

“Fine,” said Zevran. “But you’ll never find me selling out others.”

Still, the day was fair despite the clouds and I had my dog returned to me. Nothing was going to get in the way of my bad mood. Not talk of the Crows, not Isabela’s lewd advances, not Zevran’s returning them.

“Should we go scouting tonight, then?” I put a little forced brightness into my voice. “Find out what’s what and then figure out what to do? Isabela, I might need you to take over lessons for a few days. I’ll see if Bethany’s free to lend a hand if you need.”

“Hey, gang!”

“Anders! Pull up a chair!” said Varric.

Isabela shuffled over to make room for him. “If only it were dark.”

“And we had a campfire.”

“I think I’ve had my fair share of stories told round a campfire to last three lifetimes,” said Zevran. He reclined, and Anders was thin but handsome in the light jacket he was wearing, and Fenris.

Fenris.

He looked well. Not smiling, never smiling, except for a few times and then only around me and before he left my house. Even then, those small quirks of his lip had been hidden by his hair or mug of coffee. His skin was dark and his tattoos like lightning over his arms. His hands were loosely clasped in his lap and I could see the white lines over his palms.

The grin on my face had turned tense.

Fenris and Anders and Zevran all together. With Varric grinning cheerily in the middle.

It was suddenly all too much.

“I’m going to get a glass of water,” I decided loudly. I grabbed Batman by the collar and hauled him upright. “You’re coming too.”

The stable was empty, silent and peaceful. The laughter from the group outside was relaxing from a distance.

I leaned against the stable wall as if to draw from its strength. So silent, so stoic. It’s wood, Hawke. But wood that had seen a hundred horses pass it by. Had weathered storms and summers and… I sighed and leaned against it. And it would weather me, too.

Anders tapped on the wood further down the stables and I turned around. My palm kept close to the coarse surface, fingertips brushing against splinters.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He looked at me in the dim, dusty light.

“Sure?”

“Just a bit,” I waved my hand. “People. You know how it can get.”

“Did you see Fenris last night? When he saw you, with Zevran?”

“Anders,” I warned. My palm was flat on the wood. He stepped closer.

“He looked hurt.”

Of everyone, Anders was my closest friend. We didn’t always agree but we always understood each other. I knew his nightmares, and he knew my anxieties. He was a good person, a good man.

“He walked away, not me,” I protested.

Anders held up his hands. “I know, I know. But I thought you should know. He looked hurt. It’s been a month and he still looks at you like a man in love.”

I shook my head violently. “It’s been more than a month. He’s not in love with me. I’m not even sure he likes me.”

Anders shrugged. “Perhaps. I don’t know him. But he’s here, now, when he doesn’t have to be.”

“A misplaced sense of honour-” I protested. Andy raised an eyebrow, and I fell silent.

“And I don’t know everything about you. But I do know you, Nat. Or whatever Zevran called you last night. You,” he pressed his finger against my sternum. “Are a good person. You are kind, and generous, and noble. And whatever else you are, that stands. And maybe he’ll disappear, and he’ll just be someone in the past. But you’ll keep going.”

“Nathiru,” I said finally. “My name is Nathiru.”

Anders blinked a moment before laughing. “Okay, then. You couldn’t pronounce mine. Now come on. We need you, all of us, you big hearted mutt.”

“Not a mutt!” I cried, giving in to his arm tight around my neck in a burly excuse for an embrace. “Andy?”

“Mm?”

“You’re still going to marry me if we’re forty and single, yeah?”

“Of course,” he said. “I have a steam shower and you’re great at sex. We’re perfect together.”

The sun had come out when I returned. Zevran was telling a story that he probably took from someone else, and the others were laughing and relaxed.

Anders took his seat, eyes sparkling a little. Sometimes I forgot I had a friend like him. It was nice to know that for all the times I’d stopped him doing something stupid he was occasionally present to help me get my act together. These people. My little gang. 

 

* * *

 

The Crows were… I don’t want to talk about the Crows. Let’s skip the Crows. We went, we saw, we conquered.

They were hidden in an awful little shanty outside of the city. We’d planned to only find out if they were really there, but when Zevran saw them he decided it was probably best to kill them quick, before they could move.

Fenris agreed.

I kind of hung back and let them do their thing. I can fight. I just. It’s been a while. And I pulled my weight until I got hurt, and then I was useless.

Zevran drove us back home, me in the back seat trying to sit in a position that wasn’t extremely painful.

Once we were at my house I pulled off my shirt and Zevran neatly put nine stitches into my back. A lovely curved mark down one shoulder blade. Fenris was with us, and although I think he wanted to go home when Zevran poked around in the cupboard looking for pain killers and found a bottle of schnapps as well, he didn’t say no. In fact, he got up and found ice cream and insisted on making himself a milkshake.

“Sideburns teach you that?” I asked, leering crookedly at the tall glass. Pain killers and schnapps was probably a bad idea, but schnapps and ice cream sounded good. And it was kind of nice how Fenris had moved around my kitchen, with easy familiarity. It was nice that he hadn’t forgotten being here.

“Donnic doesn’t like hard liquor,” said Fenris.

“A milkshake isn’t hard liquor,” chided Zevran.

Fenris made us all milkshakes with schnapps.

We were sitting on the floor, Batman sprawled across our legs, me in the middle and Zevran and Fenris to either side of me.

Zevran told us a story. He started it by apologising. Apparently murder and alcohol either makes him horny or chatty, and since Isabela was absent he supposed he might as well indulge the latter. I don’t really remember what he said. He had a very nice voice. Not the same as Fenris’. Fenris could curdle my blood in an instant. Zevran’s was more. A fluffy blanket. Soothing.

Or perhaps that was just the pain killers and schnapps.

I’ve always liked male voices, though. They’re like pillars. They steady me. I love my mother, but no one could calm me down like Carver could. And after him I was lost for a bit, until I found Anders.

I remember a warm thigh under my hand, but it could as well been warm dog, or just cold, flat floor. I was pretty well out of it. I hope it wasn’t Fenris’ leg. Though, it would be nice if it was. If I put my hand on him and he didn’t shrug it off. But I couldn’t remember, so I hoped it was just Batman. I’d like to remember every instance of touching Fenris.

I woke up on the floor, too, with Zevran on the couch behind me, his hand on my hair. Protective. It was nice, like his voice. I felt safe.

I also felt sore, and hung over, and there were horses to deal with. I poked Zevran, and he checked the stitches, re-bandaged them, and we went out into the grey morning light. 

 

“So, you and him, huh?”

It was dawn. I was hung over and hurt all the way through to the bone. I wasn’t sure if he meant Fenris or Anders. I hedged my bets, and said, “It was a misguided tryst in the stables.”

“The stables, hmm? Is that what drew you to this life? Kinky sex on a pile of hay?”

“It’s really not that kinky,” I insisted, looking at the horses. They stood in a miserable looking group, feet covered in mud. “More scratchy and painful.”

“Like beaches?”

“Like beaches,” I agreed in a flat tone. Anders and I had once decided a nice walk on the Wounded Coast could turn into something more. It was a horrible decision. I gave a convulsed shiver at the memory. Zevran laughed. The sound was wet and sweet against the cold.

“Ah, but we all must make that mistake at least once in our lives.”

“I don’t know why they couldn’t have covered it in sex ed,” I complained.

“The whores never did warn against it,” mused Zevran. I remembered that he had been brought up by whores, before he was sold to the Crows. Interesting that he was, essentially, a slave, but he was much happier with his lot than Fenris. More adjusted. “Though I suppose we were a little distance from the coast, and very close to soft beds. Very interesting scars that he has, though.”

“Scars?” Anders had scars, but they were all hidden away under his clothes.

“Yes. I have, of course, heard of the practice but I’ve never seen it carried out so… extensively.”

“What scars?” I demanded.

“Fenris’, of course. Who did you think we were talking about?”

“I had a thing with Anders, too,” I muttered. “What scars does Fenris have?”

“Ah, you’re having me on,” he said. It began to rain softly as I stared at him, incredulous. He made a small noise of amazement. He gestured at his chin, at his throat. “Did you think they were tattoos?”

The world shifted around me. I blinked, trying to remember that the earth hadn’t moved, and I wasn’t falling. I had clutched Zevran’s arm unconsciously.

“Pardon?”

“He has been marked, I presume all over. Tattoos do not look like that.” He gestured at his face. “I should know, having had some experience with them. I had heard of the practice amongst Tevinter slavers but I have never seen it. Usually the scars are made to be small, not unlike a brand on a horse.”

“How didn’t I see that?”

“One sees patterns on skin and thinks, oh, tattoos! Scars are meant to be jagged.”

“He was sliced open,” I was still reeling. “On his neck?” Zevran shrugged, patting my hand which still clutched his elbow.

“Possibly they used hot wires. Or laser-etching. Like I said, I do not know much about the practice itself, only that it is done.”

“He said he can’t remember anything before the markings.” Nothing except pain, I thought, recalling our brief conversation on the matter. “Maker fuck me. How did I miss that?” My head was reeling from the night before, and as I took a shaky breath pain from the stitches coursed through me.

“I take it he did not correct you, if you spoke of them as tattoos.”

I hesitated. “No, he didn’t, but that’s not the point. He wouldn’t have corrected me. It’s not his nature.”

“But he’s not ashamed of who he is,” said Zevran with wonder.

“But he’s not you.” I said the words with force, needing Zevran to see my perspective. “He doesn’t like people to know what he was, and he’ll offer as little information as possible for discussion of him to end.” I looked beyond him, then flicked my eyes back to his face. “Scars? Are you sure?”

“As sure as I am that you are standing there.” He looked slightly irritated to have to repeat himself. “Now, if you are done with the horses I would like to get inside. I prefer not to be in this kind of weather without being paid for it.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter (eek!) will be posted next week.

I unlocked the door and Zevran hurried inside before me, eagerly leaving the wintery weather. We stopped on the tiles just inside of the door and pulled off our muddy shoes, and I wiped Batman’s feet with an old rag before letting him in.

Zevran went to my bathroom to take a shower, and with a weary feeling permeating my bones I sat down on the couch next to Batman. The dog put his head on my knee.

“Did you know?” I asked Batman. The dog looked up at me. Obediently I scratched his ears.

There was a clunk through the house as Zevran started up the shower. I realised he didn’t have a towel but didn’t have the energy to get up and find him one. He was a big boy. He could deal. There was a sound from the other end of the house and Batman turned his head to look. Nervously I copied him, looking towards the empty hallway that led to the spare room. A moment later a door opened and Fenris came out, towelling off his hair. He looked so fresh and sweet and the tattoos were stark against his dark skin.

Scars. I swallowed. They were scars.

I stood up from the couch. “They’re not tattoos,” I said bluntly.

He was trapped in the doorway, white hair like feathers and softly damp, black shirt caressing a torso that had filled out a little since we had first met.

“No,” he said eventually. “They’re not.”

“You never said.”

“You never asked.”

“You let me assume.” I was hurt. I had thought he trusted me with his truths.

“You blatantly lied to me,” he countered. “I’ve been hunted by people like you.”

“And when did I try to hurt you?” I blinked. “I’ve never worked for slavers, and I have never tried to hurt you.”

Fenris gestured at the other end of the house. “And him?”

“If he wanted you dead he would have done it,” I said. “He’s not the sort to play cat and mouse. And he wouldn’t.”

“Because you asked him not to,” he gritted out. He did not sound pleased to be protected by me, and that rankled me. It wasn’t even the truth.

“Because of what you were! He wouldn’t. He knows what it’s like to be owned.” Fenris gave a soft, dismissive snort. “He was sold to the Crows. They come calling every so often, wanting to claim back their investment. Like Danarius does with you.” I shook my head. This wasn’t what I wanted to talk about. “You could have told me that they’re scars.”

“So you could pity me?”

“When have I ever pitied you? Not once, Fenris. I haven’t ever,” I bit my lip. I didn’t want to yell at him, but when he turned to go back down the hallway I snatched at his arm. “Don’t you dare walk away from me right now. Not again.” He twisted out of my loose grip easily.

“They’re scars. He cut me. I bled. I’m marked as his forever now. What more do you want to know?” He growled the words.

“Why did you go?” I demanded. “You just left, without saying a word.”

“You let me!”

“Was I supposed to run after you?” I yelled. Distantly I was aware that the shower had turned off. I wondered if Zevran could hear us, but I didn’t lower my voice. “Was I supposed to hunt you down and force you back?” He flinched at my words. “I don’t need you, Fenris. I want you. I want you so much it damn well hurts, but I make my own happiness. Why did you leave?”

He looked away from me. Batman was pressed against my leg, but I touched him between the shoulders and he went to Fenris. The man put a hand on the dog’s head.

“I don’t know,” he said, eventually. “I just. I couldn’t. I couldn’t, and then I was gone and I couldn’t come back. I don’t think I’d be here, except for him.” He glanced beyond me, at the other end of the house, towards Zevran. “Everything was too close after that night. What little I can remember from before,” he gives a harsh chuckle, laughing at himself, at his own pain. “I don’t deserve you, Nat. You’re a good man. I don’t deserve that.”

I stared at him. I was amazed that he could think so little of himself. “You come back to ride horses; that’s something good. You have friends. You’ve had Batman. You drink milkshakes and,” I floundered for something else, “have showers. You have good things. What’s so great about me that you cannot have?” I curled my hand into a fist to stop from stepping close and grabbing him. I wanted to shake some sense into him. “I’m not a prize, Fenris. This isn’t an award. I just want to know you.”

“There’s nothing to know. I remember three years of my life, and all I did was kill and fuck,” he spat that harshly, wanting to see me flinch. “I can’t read. I can’t write. I’m nothing except what he made me. Stop pretending I’m more.” He laughed again, and I wanted to punch him for it. “If you won’t take me home I’ll walk.”

I glared at him, my chest heaving, but as much as I didn’t want him to go, again, I didn’t want him to walk all that way, especially not in that weather.

The car ride was deathly quiet, and the music only made the bitter silence between us seem stretched and tangled. So we drove in silence, Batman sprawled on the backseat.

“Fen,” I tried, as he went to open the door. He froze, and for a moment I thought he was going to turn and tell me that it was okay, and that he believed me, and he wanted me. But he just shook his head and slammed the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m leaving,” announced Zevran. I looked up at him. It was several days since the fight with Fenris, and I’d been miserable company. Zevran had tried, but when I wanted to be miserable I was truly awful to be around.

“Where to?”

“I am not sure.” He rolled his shoulders in a sort of shrug. “I think I will wander a bit. Having the Crows off my tail allows me to be more relaxed in my travels, and there is so much of the world I wish to see. And having refused Fenris as a mark I think I owe Melissa some loyalty for a time.” He grinned at me. “It has been delightful, and it is not without regret that I leave you.”

“Ah,” I attempted a smile. “You’re like a stray cat. On my porch to get out of the rain and gone tomorrow, but you’ll wander back eventually.”

“Doubtless,” he grinned. “Now that I know what a delightful life you lead. Will you be alright?”

“I have a competition this weekend. It will give me something to focus on,” I said, though I didn’t feel the hope that I forced into my voice.

 

 

 

“Oh, Nat,” said my mother that night, as soon as she had pulled back from kissing me in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

It was a small group for dinner; only my mother and Bethany. Merrill was with Orana, and Sandal wanted to see a movie so he and his father had eaten earlier. Anders had surgery, but he said he hoped to be there for dessert.

“Fenris,” I said, letting her lead me into the sitting room. “I know I said I was over him. I lied.” I sat down heavily. Bethany, seeing my face, offered me her drink. I shook my head.

“What do you want, my dear?” asked my mother, standing at the sideboard.

I shook my head again. “I don’t know. I want him to be happy but I really like him.”

“I mean to drink. You look like you need something.”

“Oh, um. Anything.” I almost asked for an alcholic milkshake, because I was feeling bitter and wanted to rub salt in the wound. “Something fruity. I’m feeling sad. I need something to brighten me up.”

“Looks like you need all the help you can get,” said my mother. “There’s bananas in the kitchen, I won’t be a minute.”

“Remember when she found out we were sneaking alcohol? How times have changed,” said Bethany, holding up her glass. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to being an adult.”

“You were kids. I think she had a right to be upset when her twelve year old daughter was stealing wine.”

“It was cheap wine,” countered Bethany. “Turned me off wine for good, that did.”

“Fenris likes wine,” I blurted, without purpose.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” said Bethany, touching my hand. She looked agonisingly sad for me.

“I’ll try not to be. Tell me how nursing is. Has anyone pooped on you lately?”

“Surprisingly no,” said Bethany. “But I have had someone pee on me.”

“Oh, goodness,” said my mother, returning with a drink in a tall glass for me. “Please finish this conversation quickly. We are about to eat.”

We bantered lightly about the usual things: my horses, the woes of Bethany’s work as a nurse, and whatever activities my mother was engaging in that week. She had been seeing a man for a while, now, and Bethany and I spent most of dessert insisting that we had to meet this man of hers.

“Only if you bring yours,” she relented finally, looking at Bethany. I stared at my sister, who blushed.

“It’s not really serious.”

“I wasn’t even sure,” said my mother, grinning. “Well, then, next week. You bring yours and I’ll bring mine.”

“Who should I bring?” I joked. The relaxed conversation had settled my emotions, and I felt at ease again. “Batman?”

“I cannot imagine he would look well sitting at the end of the table.”

“Fine,” I countered. “I’ll bring some man I picked up at a bar mere hours before.”

“I have no doubt you’ll be unable to find yourself another stray between now and then,” said my mother cheerfully.

“What happened to the blond one?” asked Bethany in confusion.

“He left. And he’s not a stray. I don’t pick up strays!”

“Whatever,” said Bethany, flicking her hair.

“The blond one?” asked my mother. “There’s another one? Nat, you’re impossible.”

 

 

I opened the door to my house. Batman bounded up to greet me, and tiredly I patted his head as he went past me into the garden. The soft glow of the clock on the microwave lit the room in green, and I hung my jacket up by the door. The keys clattered onto the kitchen bench as I toed off my shoes and leaned against the bench, waiting for Batman to come back in.

I rubbed at my forehead, eager for the day to be over. Arishok would only get a gentle workout the next day, in preparation for the competition on the weekend, but I still had other horses to ride and lessons to give, and then poker in the evening. I was looking forward to that distraction from thoughts of Fenris. I was a little disappointed that Zevran hadn’t stayed around. I had never played poker against him, and I was certain he was a devil at it.

“Batman!” I groaned. “Hurry up. I’m freezing my balls off!”

There was a rustle, and then the unmistakable sound of a car pulling up. I wondered if perhaps Anders or Isabela were bored. It had been a while since either had visited me without cause at a strange hour. I stepped out, barefooted, onto the gravel path. It was too dark to see through the garden.

“Hello?” I called. There was a rustle to my left, which was Batman, and only a soft whisper in the trees. I was about to turn back towards the house to turn on the light when a figure stepped out of the shadows.

“Nat.”

The voice was unmistakably Fenris’. I stood still, a little shocked, unable to move. There was the crunch of gravel as he stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the air shifting around him, and then he crowded against me, the heat of his body strong. His voice was thick, determined.

He kissed me.

He shoved me up against the wall and he kissed me, his mouth rough, claiming me more than kissing me, his hands encircling my wrists and his hips pressing against mine. I gasped, and groaned, and pushed against him, wanting him closer.

He broke away almost before I had begun to respond.

“I am worthy,” he said. It only almost a statement.

“Yes,” I said.

“And you want me, despite it all.”

“Yes.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know if I believe you.” He touched my cheek, looking into my eyes.

My voice hitched in my throat. “Believe me,” I said in a whisper.

He kissed me again, more slowly, properly tasting me.

“I haven’t done this before.”

“This?” He was still kissing me, talking into my mouth. “You’re very good at it.” It was half a lie, because he tasted delicious but it always takes a little time to learn how to kiss someone. We were still learning. His teeth knocked mine. I didn’t quite know how to move my tongue against his. But I wanted more. I wanted to learn him. “Sex?”

I wasn’t thinking very clearly.

“I’ve had,” he pulled away, “sex. I’ve even wanted sex,” he added, and I wanted to wrap him in my arms, as though that could take away all the memories of the sex he didn’t want. “But I’ve never had a relationship.”

“Oh,” I said. I realised something. “Neither have I.”

He titled his head on the side. “I find that difficult to believe.”

“I’ve had… things.”

“Anders,” sighed Fenris.

“Well, yes.” I nearly apologised, but didn’t, because it was in the past and I didn’t regret it. “But he wasn’t really… There’s been people. But not a relationship. I don’t really know how to date. Normally I,” fuck, I thought. I didn’t want to push him. I didn’t want him to think I was pushing him.

“What?”

“Normally I just have sex with people. And figure it out from there.” I gave a small smile. “I’m doing this backwards.”

“We kind of did have sex,” he said.

“True. So, are we doing this?” I continued, when he said nothing.

“I’d… I don’t know.”

“I’d like to.”

“I don’t know how to.”

“Neither do I.”

“That’s not a comfort.”

We looked at each other.

“Well, we can kiss,” I said, giving him a quick peck to prove my point. “And I like talking to you. And hearing you talk. And we can eat meals together. And,” I searched my mind for other things that couples did.

“We can go riding together.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yes.” I always wanted a boyfriend who liked horses. And murder. My heart thudded hard in my chest. “Fuck,” I whispered. “You’re kind of perfect.”

He looked away. It was dark, but I think he was blushing.

“So,” he said.

I blinked and looked away. I’d been staring at him. Learning his face.

“This. You and me. We’re a thing.” I glanced back at him.

“Yes,” he said. Then, “I have to go.” I groaned a no. I wanted to rush him inside and spread him out on my bed. Or, I wanted him to press me against the wall and have at me again. Or, I wanted him to sit on the other end of the couch watching a movie, not talking, not touching.

I just wanted him.

“Stay,” I said. “You can stay.”

“I have to go,” he said. “I only came because,” he kissed me again. He didn’t need to explain himself.

He left.

I called Batman inside. I closed the door in a daze. I pulled off my shirt and rolled into bed. Batman settled into his customary position, head on my calf, body stretched over the other half of the bed.

I lay there a long time.

“He came back,” I said, eventually, looking at the roof. Batman shifted his head a little, ears pricked. I looked down at him. “He came back to me.”

A little later, I said, “Fuck,” and sat up. Batman looked at me in askance as I fumbled around on the bedside table for my phone. “Anders will kill me if I don’t tell him right away.”

 

* * *

 

There was a loud knock on the door frame. “Holla!” called Anders. “Just here to feed the cat.”

“Good!” I yelled back. “Come here.”

Anders stepped into my bedroom, where both animals looked from me to him.

“What is Lady Fluffikins doing in here?" he cooed. 

“She just is,” I said dismissively, ignoring the tone of voice he'd used at the cat. Lady Fluffikins didn’t seem to care for my rules, and did enjoy curling up on my bed. Batman tolerated this. “What do I wear?”

Anders frowned. “I’m being asked fashion advice by you?” I glared at him, half naked and cold because of it. “Is this for a dinner..?” he questioned. I shook my head. “Cocktails, lunch, what am I dressing you for?”

“Fenris is going to be here. Today.”

“Uh-huh,” said Anders. It had been less than twelve hours since Fenris had kissed me. I could still feel him against my body.

“At least, I think he is,” I scratched at my scars nervously, “because apparently he can drive now, and he texted me this morning asking if he could come and ride, and I said yes and since I’m not going anywhere today probably I’ll be here when he’s here.”

Anders laid a hand gently on my shoulder. “Nat, breathe. Just wear what you usually wear.”

“But I don’t want to look drab,” I whined, then added, “but I don’t want to look like I’m trying.”

Anders looked critically at the clothes on my bed. “This is a very small selection.”

“I haven’t done the washing yet this week.” Everything else was covered in horse slobber, it seemed. Occupational hazard.

“Where’s that brown sweater?”

“Brown?” I exclaimed. “It’s so bland.”

“Wear the brown and thank me for it later. Roll up your sleeves, too. Come on, Lady, do you want some food?” he finished in a high-pitched cooing voice. The cat looked at him and languorously uncurled herself before stretching, yawning, and finally deigning to follow Anders out of my room. “And jodhpurs today, not jeans.”

“But my jodhpurs are muddy,” I called back, but he was in the kitchen talking to his cat, and ignoring me. I sighed, and pulled a pair of old, grey jodhpurs out from under Batman.

 

He did not come past that day, not for hours and hours, not until I was in the middle of a lesson. I saw him in the back arena riding with careful concentration while Isabela taught him. I tried to watch him, but I had students.

Later, after he had finished, and I was in the middle of my last lesson, he sat down outside the arena by the parents to watch. I fancy he was only there to watch me teach, and despite the cold night air I pushed my sleeves to my elbows. Andy said I should. I knew what it looked like on other guys. I just never thought that I’d be one of those guys who looked good with pushed up sleeves.

I glanced at Fenris, wondering if he had noticed, but one of the parents was talking to him and he was looking at her.

I looked back to my students.

“Analise, heels down!” I called. “Sarah, are you on the right diagonal?”

The girl looked at my hopefully, rather than down at the horse’s legs to check. “Yes?” she asked hopefully.

“No! Double-sit to change!” The three horses trotted around the arena, one after the other, keeping a polite distance apart. “Sarah, in the corner you are going to canter. Do you remember how to ask for canter?”

She screwed up her face a little in concentration. It was sweet, she tried so hard, but in other regards she was hopeless. Like diagonals. It would come in time, I knew, but meanwhile I had to continue to yell at her.

“You sit down, put your outside leg back, and tighten the inside rein a little, and then kick!” she finished triumphantly.

“Yes,” I said, walking near them as they trotted. “Try nudging, instead of kicking, though. In the next corner,” I said, as she came down the long side of the arena. She eagerly booted him, and Oscar leaped forward.

“Sit down,” I called, “and move with him. Relax your hips!” This, too, was something that would come in time, though Oscar had a nice enough canter to learn on. I made a mental note to talk to Sarah’s mother about perhaps having some private lessons. Some time on the lunge would help her with her seat, and on the lunge I could take away the stirrups and she could learn the movements of the trot a little more thoroughly. She’d think me cruel, but she’d learn.

She pulled Oscar back into a trot before she reached the other horses again, and I sent Analise off, thoughts of Fenris all forgotten.

Merrill was there, helping me with the horses at the end of the night, showing the kids how to put rugs on and then taking them out into the night with torches to put them out into their paddocks. I talked to Sarah’s mother, and she said she’d think about private lessons, and Patrick’s mother was there asking if her son was doing well enough that perhaps spending money on proper riding boots was justified.

“You should have come to me sooner,” I said. “I have a few here,” I led her to the tack room, where there was a box of old shoes and various items that were either lost-and-found or just, things people didn’t want anymore and left at the stable thinking someone would. “What size is he?” I asked, and we dug through the box until we found a pair of old, cracked riding boots that probably fit.

“Do you have any oil at home?” was my next question. “Or boot polish, really.” She nodded, and I gave her a quick lesson on the proper care of leather shoes.

“You do all of that to your boots?” she asked, looking at my feet. I was wearing my work boots, so they looked less smooth and shiny than riding boots did, but I gestured at the saddles and bridles around me. “All of this, three times every year. They should be done more often, really, but who has the time?” I did my own things more often, but the school tack was generally battered and old before I got hold of it.

The kids were outside waiting for their parents, who were chatting amongst each other. I looked around. “Has anyone seen a cat, about this big?” The kids pointed, and I peered into the stable where Nancy was dozing. In the dip of her great swayed back Lady Fluffikins was curled up and comfortably dozing. Worried that Nancy would move and the cat would fall only to be crushed, I slipped in and lifted her into my arms. She gave a pathetic mew, and then snuggled into my neck.

“Aww,” said Analise’s mother. “Can I take a picture?”

“No!” I said. “Andy would never let me hear the end of it.” I let her take one, anyway. “Has anyone seen Batman?”

“He’s in your office,” said Fenris.

“Right,” I said, a little belatedly. I had forgotten about him. And that voice. I wondered if I would ever stopped being stunned into silence when it broke into my world unexpectedly. “Uh, has everyone paid?” There were nods. “Booked their next lesson?” More nods. “Has Sarah’s sister got her glasses?” The week before Sarah’s sister had left her glasses sitting neatly on the table by the arena.

“Yes,” said Sarah’s sister, in the tired whine of an eight year old.

“Excellent. I’ll see you all next time.” I walked them to the stable door and watched them get into their cars. With a cat still in one arm I waved them goodbye, the gravel crunching beneath the wheels and the bright red lights of the cars disappearing off down the driveway.

The silence that followed was big. I turned to Fenris.

He was all white lines buried in a brown coat. I hadn’t seen the coat before. I had seen the white lines. The scars. I looked past them, and met his eyes.

“Do you want something to eat? I’m starving.”

He shook his head. “But I brought wine.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is swimming, and horses, and a heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks!
> 
> I hope this story has been good entertainment for you, and that this chapter was worth sticking through it all for. You have my thanks and my love. It's been great fun.

The lights were all on, all of them, even in my bedroom and down the other hallway where we couldn’t see it. I imagined my house a bright burning beacon in the trees. The music was good, not too loud, not too soft, and it ebbed through me, tangling with my nerves. Sometimes music feels like love, and sometimes like springtime, and sometimes like sadness. This music felt like the slow throb of thrill before sex.

I spun in place on the carpet, my bare feet enjoying the soft material. Fenris was looking at me a little doubtfully, but I ignored him. The music felt beautiful, and he was beautiful, and there was nothing more I wanted.

I used to not dance.

I tried to get Fenris to dance, but he had shaken his head, a little embarrassed, but he had stepped back to give me room.

“I used to love dancing,” I said.

“You don’t anymore?” He critically watched me sway. I felt a little judged. I ignored that. I felt like light.

“I still do. I just. I stopped for a bit. I thought men don’t dance. So I stopped.” I closed my eyes. The music felt like a creature wrapping itself around me. My mouth tasted like fruit. He’d brought good wine.

“You were not like this last time we drank.”

“I think I was,” I said, spinning, and his hands caught mine. “I just hid it easier. I was sitting,” I grinned, bumping my head against his shoulder and laughing into his collarbone as he swayed me. “Perhaps I am just a little giddy because you are here.” I kissed his neck, too close to his scars, and he flinched. “Sorry,” I pulled back. “Sorry, sorry.” I tried to disentangle my hands from his.

“No,” he said, holding me still. “No, please.”

“Please?” I asked. I had never imagined him asking so politely, so kindly. I blinked at him. “Really?”

“I want your hands on me,” he said, unfolding our fingers where they had tangled to dance and placing my hand on his hip. I gripped it tight, stumbling slightly into him, and then giggled into his neck. I licked his collarbone. He had asked, and so nicely, so I licked the sharp edge of bone before it was buried under muscle and sinew, and kissed his shoulder. I could not remember how his shirt had come off, only that it had. It was very warm in the room, but I didn’t know if that was the heat of his body pressed close to mine or if I had been very cold that morning and turned up the heat only to forget to turn it down again.

I was very grateful for his shirt being off, and slid my hand around his waist to touch the hollow of the small of his back. The skin was soft and there were light hairs there, whispering across my fingertips. I imagined I could feel them all. I imagined we were stars, burning fiercely, spinning, dancing, burning into the endless emptiness of space.

I stepped on his toe, and he jumped a little, and made a little noise of, “ow.”

I gave an apologetic cry. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted.

“No, it’s not, let me kiss it better,” and, senselessly, I dropped to my knees and pressed my lips to his bare foot. “Here?” I asked.

“My toe. Not that one,” he added, and so I kissed them all in turn, and then kissed his foot, my hand caressing his ankle. I ran my tongue over the ridge of bone there, felt the skin dip as I traced back down over the veins of his foot and kissed the knuckles of his toes again.

“What are you doing, Nat?” he asked, amused more than anything.

“Making you better,” I said, and then realised that I was kissing scars, even on his feet, and I didn’t know what do to with that so I sat back on my heels and looked up at him. “What would you like me to do?”

He grabbed me by the shoulder, pulling me and my shirt upwards.

“Take this off,” he said. “And then kiss me. And leave my feet alone.”

“But I like your feet,” I complained. “I like feet, and I like yours.”

“Shirt,” he commanded, and I obediently pulled it from the collar up over my head, shucking it off my arms. I realised only after it was off that usually I had problems with that sort of thing. “You messed up your hair,” the stern look on his face shattered into a smile, and he pushed his fingers through my hair. I decided that I didn’t care about my scars or my shirt. If he let me see him, then he could see me.

Though my scars were far less pretty.

His traced down his throat, over his shoulders and laced out like lightning down his arms. His muscles were thick and I wondered if he worked out. I imagined him, panting and covered in sweat, bowed head from exhaustion.

I pushed into his space, tilting his head with both hands and kissing him. His hands on my shoulders slid lower, resting on my waist. The hard curves of his muscles were smooth against me. I wanted nothing more than this, holding him, lazily kissing him, our bare chests pressed together.

He suddenly broke away. “Nat, I can’t.” I blinked at him, a little stupidly. “I want to, but I can’t. Not tonight.”

“Want to what?” I asked. I lifted a hand and pushed it through his hair. He leaned into the touch slightly.

“I want to have sex,” he said bluntly. “But I do not want to run out on you again, and I don’t think I could handle that. Not tonight.”

“Okay,” I said. “What do you need? Do you want to go home? You can stay in the spare room, if you like…” He shook his head.

“If you are okay with it,” he said. “I would sleep with you. But only sleep.”

“What about kissing?” I asked hopefully.

“Kissing here,” he said firmly. “Sleeping in the bed.” I nodded, but it was still early, and I didn’t want to let him go so soon.

“Do you mean you want to sleep now? Are you tired?”

“A little, but no.”

“Good,” I said. “Because as much as I want to wake up next to you, I also want to touch you. Now. And dance! We should dance.”

He laughed, and allowed himself to be pulled into a spin.

“Everyone should dance more,” I said, very seriously, and the next song clicked over and this one was still like fingers on skin before anything started, and that was alright. More than alright.

And I made Fenris dance.

 

* * *

 

A shiny purple motorbike rumbled up the driveway, which Arishok glared at and stepped sideways, out of the cloud of dust that puffed up behind it. Even before he got off I knew who it was; there was no one in the world I knew who would ride something as ostentatious as that. Zevran pulled off the helmet and shook his long, blond hair free. He dismounted slowly, lithely, letting me have a good view of his legs in the tight pants he was wearing.

“You’re back,” I said, surprised. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

“I have news. Where can I find Fenris?” He looked a little embarrassed at the question. “I know I could find him myself, but I feel a duty to do this the polite way.”

“He’s inside,” I said as I dismounted.

“Here?” Zevran raised an eyebrow. “You are on speaking terms?” I grinned, throwing the reins over Arishok’s head. “More than speaking terms. Trysts in the stable?”

“Not quite yet,” I said, pressing my lips together in an attempt to suppress my smile.

“You say that as though you expect something soon?” I shrugged, as though I wasn’t sure, and Zevran grinned, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’m glad. You deserve something happy.”

I was sure that something would happen soon. He’d been eager. More than eager. Except, we’d kept it on the couch. Or against the wall. In the office. The tack room. The feed room, again.

Feeding time was starting to get to be a problem. If Fenris had slept over, which he did quite often, then we fed the horses together. We got distracted easily.

But so far it had been only that. Pants on. Hands kept outside of pants. It was okay. It was working. He hadn’t run away.

“How is work?” I asked, to be polite.

“Profitable. Very profitable. But that is why I am here. Are others around?”

“Isabela is here.” Zevran gave a leering smile. “But she is out, riding.”

“Good, good. Privacy to talk, and then a pretty woman to flirt with. Excellent.” I followed in his wake. Fenris was mucking stalls and when he saw Zevran he put down the rake and stepped out of the stall, looking at us warily. “Fenris! My handsome man. How are you?”

“A little nervous seeing you.”

“I am not going to kill you. In fact,” he lifted up the rigid bag he had taken from his motorbike. “I have something for you. Come, let me show you.” I didn’t want to intrude but Fenris looked at me in askance and so I followed him.

He took us to the stable’s kitchen, where we sat down and he set the bag on the table.

“I have something that you might be interested in.” Inside the bag was a box, which he took out and pushed across the table to Fenris. He put his hand on it, and then frowned at Zevran.

“It’s cold.”

Zevran unzipped a pocket in the bag. “Here,” he said, handing him the key. “Open it.”

The lock clicked loudly, and then the lid creaked a little as he opened it. I couldn’t see what was inside, and Fenris’ face was very carefully blank.

“Whose is this?”

“You are free,” Zevran said simply. He reached into the bag. “If that is not enough proof, here.” He tossed something onto the table. It clattered; a necklace, a heavy pendant on the end of a golden chain. It was not clean. There was blood on it.

Fenris picked it up and turned it over in his fingers very slowly.

“Tell me,” he said, and I still wasn’t certain what he was talking about.

“He was in the Free Marches. Hercinia. I told Melissa I had reason to suspect you - my mark - were hunting my client. So she informed me where I might find him. His guards were not so difficult as Crows to kill, though I would have preferred to not be on my own. Still, he had a great deal of cash about, to make it worth my while, and I was not hurt very badly.”

“You killed Danarius,” said Fenris. He put his hand into the box, and lifted out a heart. It was bloody and sticky and had pieces hanging from it. Blood oozed from an open artery. “You brought his heart to me.”

Zevran smiled, and shrugged. “A friend of Nathiru’s is a friend of mine. I would have done the same for him.”

“Careful,” I said. “It’s dripping.”

“Oh! Sorry,” Fenris said, and put the heart back in the box and closed the box, then got up and went to the sink to wash off his hands.

“How much money did you make?”

“A lot. There’s also some property. Tevinter, a place in Nevarra, even Orlais. And Kirkwall.” He looked at Fenris. “I have brought the deeds to all. I though that of anyone, you deserve them the most.”

“I want none of them.”

“No? A house in Kirkwall. A mansion, no less, in Hightown. It could be useful.”

“What of his slaves?”

“I had not thought of them.” Fenris put his head on the side, judging him. “I can send someone. I have a few contacts. Yes,” he nodded purposefully. “I meant to seek out his other properties anyway. I can ensure what people are there are dealt with properly.”

He opened the mouth of the bag again. This time he pulled out a folder, which he set on the table. “Here are the deeds. And here,” he brought out a brown paper bag, “is some money.” Fenris didn’t seem about to, so I opened the bag.

“Andraste’s arse,” I breathed. “I could redo the arena and buy a new truck.” I pushed the bag towards Fenris. “Or buy a winery,” I suggested, since that seemed more his sort of thing. He ignored the bag. He was still looking at the pendant.

“I think I will take my leave,” said Zevran. He looked from Fenris to me. “I will see you again, I hope.”

 

 

Fenris was quiet after Zevran had left, looking at the box. I opened the folder to flick through the deeds, but I didn’t quite understand them and half weren’t even in a language that I knew.

“What do I do with the heart?”

We looked at the box. I almost suggested he bury it, but that seemed so civilised.

“I have an idea.”

We walked up the hill towards the house, but stopped in the middle of the paddock. There were cross country jumps here, and one of the jumps was surrounded by gravel and dirt.

“Put it here,” I said, and marched off towards the line of trees. Fenris followed me, and when he saw what I was doing helped me to gather wood. “It’s all wet,” I said. “I don’t know if this will work.”

“Hold on,” said Fenris, and he left me there, walking further up the hill towards the house. I waited a while for him, and eventually he came back with some newspaper and a can. He poured the petrol onto the wood, and then stuffed newspaper into the cracks.

He opened the box, and took out the heart. It looked terribly reverent, to place it carefully amongst the wood. He said nothing, and stood back to let me fish around in the pockets of my jacket. Fenris raised an eyebrow at the lighter.

“Confiscated it from a parent last night,” I explained. People weren’t allowed to smoke at the stables. Sometimes they forgot. I held it out to him. He bent down to light the newspaper.

“Shouldn’t you say something?”

He glanced up at the interruption.

“Like what?”

“Something like, ‘Here lies a gargantuan fuck, I hope his soul never finds peace’.”

“That should do it,” he said, and set the paper alight. It flickered slowly along the edge, and for a long moment it looked about to go out, and then it hit a bit of petrol along a damp stick and went up all in a whoosh. The heart turned a melted black.

We watched it burn.

“I should have been the one to do it,” he said, after a while. “I should have hunted him down.”

I wanted to reach out to touch him, and then realised I was allowed to do that, now, so I did. The calluses on his fingers were still unfamiliar to me, and as I rubbed them the pained look on his face eased a little.

“He’s dead, now.”

“I owe Zevran.” He looked unhappy with that prospect.

“I rather think he owed you.”

“Perhaps,” allowed Fenris. “Still, he did not have to, and it was no doubt dangerous.”

“He likes leather things,” I suggested.

“You think a leather bracelet is sufficient thanks for murdering the man who took all memory of happiness from me?”

“Well,” I said. “When you say it like that.” A stick broke, and the heart fell into the dirt, the fire consuming it. “But you have new memories, now, don’t you?” I glanced sideways at him. “Happy memories? Cards with Donnic, the horses, Andy’s blasted cat…”

“You.” He looked at me. “Those other things too, but, you.”

We stood hand in hand, and looked at the heart.

“Perhaps not the cat,” he said after a bit. “I’m not sure how you put up with it.”

“She grows on you.” He made a severe noise in the back of this throat. “Like a fungus,” I amended. “Or a parasite.”

“I prefer dogs.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I’m not getting rid of Batman.” There was another stretch of silence. “What do you think you will do with his properties?”

“I am not his family member to disperse his assets,” grumbled Fenris. “I will sell them, and if Zevran can find the slaves, they can have the money spread amongst them.”

“Even his house in Kirkwall?”

“I have no desire to be anywhere that he has touched,” spat Fenris. He rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand, a sweet gesture completely out of touch with the expression on his face. “Perhaps I should move into it. Let Aveline and Donnic have their house back.”

“Or sell it, and use the money to find your own place.” I nearly told him to move back in with me, but I couldn’t. It was too big a question. “Something you’ll like.”

“And what would I like?” He shook his head in a self-depreciating motion. “I don’t even know what kind of house I should have.”

“Something small, so you would not have to clean. Carpet in the bedroom, but not in the living area. A rug there, something stupidly lush but you’d lie on it, sometimes. Probably a fireplace. I can imagine you brooding in front of a fireplace.”

“I do not brood.”

“Philosophise,” I corrected with a quirked smile. The fire was smoldering around the heart. “A TV, too. But away from the fireplace. Perhaps you’ll have a den. With lots of cushions. And you can lie about with your doberman and watch terrible telly all day.”

“I’m getting a dog, now?”

“You said you don’t like cats,” I protested. “And you’re not stealing Batman again.”

“I understood that he was loaned to me.”

“And he was,” I said. Softly, I added, “he is never very pleased when you take his place on my bed.”

He snorted. “He slept on my bed, too. Insisted on it.”

“He is a bit of a bully, sometimes.”

He shivered, and I sidled closer and pressed my shoulder against his. Well, my arm to his shoulder. I am taller than him, after all.

“He’ll have to get over that,” he said.

“He won’t. He likes lying on people. I tried to train him out of it, for Andy’s sake. Andy hates dogs. Hates them,” I repeated, to get my point across. “He’s not afraid of them. He just really doesn’t like them.”

“I see.”

“Batman has to be perfectly behaved around him.”

“Is he?”

“He’s better now.”

“He listens to you.”

“Listened to Carver better.”

The fire was nearly out, and we both leaned forward to assess how destroyed the heart was.

“Should we bury it?” asked Fenris. “The horses might...” He trailed off. He didn’t know about horses and what they might do. I was about to suggest a fox might be more of a problem, but they probably wouldn’t be bothered with a burned up piece of bloody tissue.

“I need to dig out the ditch anyway,” I said, gesturing across the way at a cross country jump with a gaping hole in front of it. “Kick some dirt over it and I’ll come clean it up in a couple days.”

We kicked dirt over the slaver’s burned up heart without any reverence at all.

“What do you want to do now?” I thought perhaps he’d want to be alone. I didn’t exactly know the protocol for what to do after a great event like someone you hated dying. I mean, normally I was the one killing them. My protocol was a decent dinner and a full night’s rest in a respectable hotel room.

“Can we go riding?” asked Fenris.

Arishok glared at me over the fence, but he needed some ground work over poles and Rue’s little Arab needed hill work.

“You look too tall,” said Fenris, as I leaned down from the saddle to readjust the length of the stirrups.

“Pax is just too short.” I scarcely had to lean forward to check a buckle on the bridle. Pax flicked an ear and stamped his feet. “Around the arena a couple times to make sure their brakes are working,” I said. “And then into the hills.”

 

* * *

 

We were in bed together.

We hadn’t planned this. It had just sort of happened. A nice end to a nice day, and we’d been sleeping together, a lot. Not really touching. Sometimes we’d wake up with an arm over the other, or his head against my shoulder, but it wasn’t really cuddling.

I think he felt safer, with me next to him. And Batman. If we’d been doing anything, I’d have kicked Batman out of the room. He’d whine for the first half hour then get the message and go curl up on the couch. But we weren’t, we were just sleeping, so Batman slept between our legs, or over our legs, a great heavy warmth.

It had been a rare warm sunny day. It was Sunday, so there were no lessons and most of the horses had the day off. I spent the morning doing the washing and cleaning the bathroom. They weren’t chores I loved, but I did love listening to music, or audiobooks. I had never been one to read. It was too singular. It was just sitting and just reading. I always liked to do multiple things at once, like listening to a book and doing the laundry.

Then, midmorning, I got a text. Isabela wanted to have a barbecue, and I was the only person she knew who had one. I found my house filled with friends, and then we’d gone riding, all of us except Bethany, who had work. We took a long trek into the hills that had ended when we’d found an old water tank.

It was the sort of place that should really have been part of my childhood, but wasn’t.

Merrill was the first to see it, riding ahead on Halla. She trotted back, her face in a wide grin.

“What is it, honey-bear?” asked Isabela.

“Water.”

“We just crossed a stream,” I said, thinking of the horses, and their need to drink.

“No, silly, for us. We can go swimming.” My eyebrows flew up at that.

“It’s winter,” I said.

“And you’re sweating like a pig,” said Anders.

“Thanks,” I said dryly, wiping my upper lip again. Arishok, beneath me, who was really doing all the work of walking, wasn’t sweating at all. I decided to blame that on my rigorous training regime. He really was coming along very well. I was excited for our next event. We were going to utterly destroythe competition.

“Where is this water?” asked Isabela.

“It’s just up this hill.”

“I haven’t been this way before,” I said. “I didn’t know there was water up here.”

Anders twisted to look back at me. He had been sitting with one leg slung over the pommel, as though he were riding sidesaddle, but he’d started to slip off as soon as we hit the hills. “I thought you’d been all over.”

“I thought so, too.”

We rode up a hill and then down, and stopped, and looked at the water tank.

“Is that safe?” asked Varric.

“Looks safe,” said Anders, the veterinarian, our go-to for situations requiring medical assessment.

“The water looks clear, at least,” I said, doubtfully.

Isabela had already flung herself off her horse and was rapidly stripping. “Last one in is a rotten egg!” she yelled.

I looked at Fenris. Fenris looked at me.

“You game?” I asked.

“Come on, broody,” said Varric. He’d pulled off his shirt. The open collar really hadn’t prepared me for the amount of hair. I stared. Behind him, Isabela was topless and tugging off her boots. I knew breasts jiggled. But. I didn’t really know they jiggled so much. There was too much hair and breast in one area. I quickly looked at Fenris.

He swallowed, jaw clenched. “Why not?” he said.

“That’s the spirit!” Varric took the horses to the side of the track and I helped him unsaddle them, leaning the saddles against the trees to give the horses a breather, and twisted the reins around their bridles to keep them off the ground. Arishok wouldn’t wander far from me, and the others wouldn’t wander from him. Batman was racing Isabela to the pool.

“Wait!” I called, suddenly terrified of the water, that it wasn’t deep enough or that the slope towards the tank was slippery and she’d tumble to her death. Heedless of me she leaped, Batman jumping beside her. Two divers in tandem, Isabela’s hair flew up, and down, and then she hit the water in a massive bomb. Water splashed everywhere, and then. Nothing.

I took a running step, and she bobbed up, Batman doggy-paddling towards her. She laughed.

“It’s cold! Come on!” Merrill was already scrambling down the slope. “Jump!” coaxed Isabela, and, with a little shriek Merrill obeyed. Anders was hanging back, toying with the edge of his shirt, and looking at me.

“You don’t have to,” Anders said softly. “Isabela wasn’t thinking. We won’t mind if you go home. Or sit on the edge and don’t get in.”

“I know,” I said, feeling warm and comforted by his words. I did know. These people, they didn’t judge. They didn’t judge at all. “But I want to swim.” The water looked good. It was clear, mostly, and it looked cold, and I was warm from the sun and from riding. I wanted to be fine with it. I decided that I was going to be fine with it I unzipped my jacket. Anders watched me critically. “What about him?”

I looked back at Fenris, who was sitting down and peeling off his socks from dark feet. I blinked, unable to think of anything except kissing them.

“I think he’s okay with it. He’s very good at saying no.”

“Alright, then,” said Anders. He rolled down his jodhpurs and tugged them off with his boots and socks together. I didn’t know how he did that. I went to hide behind Arishok. I’d never mastered getting out of riding pants without extreme awkwardness, and hated even Batman watching me while I took them off. He always put his head on the side as though waiting for me to topple over. I pulled my shirt over my head and began to roll down my jodhpurs. They were my least favourite, tight navy cotton ones that hugged my hips and refused to come free without at least a partial dance. I was in the middle of an awkward shimmy when there was a crack of a stick behind me.

“Don’t watch me, Fey.”

“Not Feynriel,” said a thick voice.

I spun. My pants were over my hips, sitting just at the top of my thighs. We froze, looking at each other. Fenris looked away first, a little red in the face.

“I came to see if you’re alright with this,” he coughed, clearing his throat.

“I’m fine! I feel safe.” I licked my lips. “With them.” I met his eye. “And you.” I realised that this would be the first time he’d see me naked. He was looking very resolutely upwards, towards my hair.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it,” he said. We both turned around. I stood, heart pounding, before I heard the rough slide of a zip behind me. I leaned on a tree to pull off my boots and socks, and finished struggling out of my pants.

“Uh,” I said. I turned. He turned. We looked at each other, meeting each other’s eyes. I was very tempted to look down, to take him all in, but I didn’t. I didn’t quite know what to say. I wasn’t sure if I was glad it was like this, away from any idea of actually touching me, that he could see me. See what sort of body he’d signed up to deal with.

“You two!” came Isabela’s voice. We flinched.

“Get your arse in here!” finished Anders.

I felt a little nervous, like my first day of school. Arishok flicked his tail as I walked around him, catching me on the shoulder. Fenris looked at me again. I decided not to try to figure out what that look meant. He licked his lips.

“Nat,” he began.

“Race you?” I interrupted, and started running without waiting for a response. “Out of the way!” I yelled at the group in the water tank.

I squeezed my eyes shut and grabbed at my knees. The water was like a brick of ice. I surfaced, spluttering, and grabbed hold of the first thing I found to keep myself out of the water as I wiped my eyes clean.

“It’s cold!” I cried, clinging to Isabela’s arm.

“Told you!” said Isabela.

I looked at the water.

“Why is there glitter in here?”

We all looked at Merrill.

“I showered three times,” she cried. “And it won’t come off.”

“Why do you have glitter all over you?” I asked. “I’ve never had glitter all over me.”

“Orana dumped it on me.”

“I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing,” said Isabela, paddling closer and swiping a finger over Merrill’s shoulder.

“I didn’t know glitter’s considered kinky,” Andy said.

“Not everything I say is innuendo,” said Isabela. “Anyway, maybe you’re just into the wrong sort of kink.” Everyone looked at Anders, and then, slowly, turned to me.

“Is he?” asked Isabela slowly. “I need to know.”

“For perfectly legitimate reasons,” added Varric.

“I take the fifth!” I cried.

“Glitter’s not kinky,” Merrill was saying. “She just,” but everyone was ignoring her protests.

“What about Nat? Is he into anything,” Isabela lowered her voice and winked over my head, at Fenris behind me, “kinky?”

“No,” said Anders, “but he does like watching TV while you do it.”

“That was one time!” I yelled, splashing forward in the water. “And it was the finale.”

“Of what show?” questioned Varric.

“I take the fifth,” I said again. Anders opened his mouth to speak, and with a sweep of my arm I splashed him.

“Fine!” he coughed. “Fine, I won’t.”

“Hah!” said Varric. “The glitter’s all over you, now!”

“Bloody hell,” he said. “Is it in my hair?”

I laughed. “Yes.”

“You bastard!” he said, and proceeded to chase me around the tank trying to splash water at me. Batman writhed around in the water, barking and wagging his tail as best he could.

“I just realised,” said Varric, once we’d quieted down, both Anders and I sparkling slightly, “am I the only straight one here?” The rest of us looked at each other.

“Yes,” said Isabela.

“Definitely,” said Anders.

“Sorry,” added Merrill.

“You’re like Nat,” said Anders.

“Me?”

“And Fenris?”

“What?” asked Fenris.

“What about us?” I added.

“You’re monosexual.”

“Which is even more boring than heterosexuality,” said Isabela.

“So am I!” said Merrill. “I think. I mean. Men are nice. I just don’t really want to do anything.” She looked at Varric. “Though that chest hair is something.”

“Mmm, isn’t it?” said Isabela appreciatively.

“I’m not,” said Fenris.

“Not what? Into his chest hair?” Isabela looked scandalised. “But honey, look at it!” It was hard not to look at it. It couldn’t really be called chest hair, because it was everywhere.

“Monosexual.”

There was a beat as everyone took that in. Isabela was the first to break the silence.

“You’re saying I had a chance with you?” she cried. “If I’d know that I wouldn’t have let you alone.”

“Nat’s a difficult one to resist,” said Varric.

“I’ve never had much chance to find out,” Fenris added, more softly. I wasn’t sure that the others could hear him; we were floating together, the glitter creating a rippled sheen around me. I paddled a little closer to him.

“Look at Isabela. I understand that if you’re attracted to Isabela you’re probably bent both ways.”

“That would be rude!” he hissed.

“She really doesn’t mind.”

“Anyway, you’re here,” he added. “Why would want to look at her?”

“We should have brought a beach ball,” Merrill interrupted loudly, treading water with Batman next to her.

“Get away from my dog! You’re getting glitter on him!”

Fenris surreptitiously tried to look at Isabela while she and Anders decided to see who could make the biggest bomb. I, slightly concerned for their safety, tried to swim down to the bottom of the tank to see if they were likely to break their neck. I opened my eyes at the bottom and found myself staring straight at Merrill, and had to race to the surface to keep from laughing water into my lungs.

“Maker’s-!” I gasped, scarcely able to describe how bizarre she had looked, face tattoos and bright green eyes in the depth of the tank. There was a thundering crash, and the water sloshed against the sides.

“Whose was bigger?” demanded Isabela. “It was mine. I bet mine was bigger.”

“You have to jump at different times,” said Varric patiently.

“Let’s play Marco Polo!” said Merrill.

“But no one said that I won,” whined Isabela.

“You won,” I said. “You have the biggest,” I paused, “splash.”

“Good man,” she said, slapping my shoulder.

Eventually we got out, and spread out the saddle blankets to sit on while we dried off. Fenris was a little awkward, and I moreso, but the others didn’t really look at us.

“What is that scar from?” asked Merrill. I’d been looking up at the trees where a small group of brightly coloured birds were, trying to figure out what sort they were. I jerked my head down to see who she was talking to.

“A cat,” said Anders. He was leaning back on his elbows, legs stretched long in front of him. He was scrawny and a little pale, especially next to the dark tan of Isabela. He touched the scar that ran down the front of his chest. “I picked her up, and she scratched me.”

Merrill leaned closer, unconcerned that they were both stark naked. “Huh,” she said. She brushed her fingers across his stomach and his muscles twitched. “What’s these?”

“Uh,” Anders bent to look. “Oil splatters. Cooking bacon, or pancakes. Wear an apron, that’s my advice.”

“Do you have more?” asked Merrill. He nodded.

“On my back, mostly.” He rolled over to let her see, folding his arms in front of him and laying his head down.

“We should go back,” said Varric. “I need to see a man about a horse.”

“Oh?” I asked. I was not working as hard as I was used to at appearing nonchalant. Even Isabela’s lewd comments were muted, habitual rather than pointed. I felt calm around these people.

“I’m trying to buy one from Bianca’s dam. She throws good foals, if Bianca’s anything to go by.”

“A yearling?”

“Two years old. About ready to throw out in a paddock for a couple years. I meant to ask, do you have the room to spare?”

“Probably,” I said. “There’s the side paddock. The hill.”

“With the dry dam?”

“Yeah. The fence needs fixing. When are you getting it?”

“Before the end of the month.”

“What were you thinking? Nighttimes with Bianca, daytimes with Nancy and Puffin?”

“Depending on how well behaved he is I was hoping we could cycle him through the rest of the horses. Get him comfortable with strangers.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” I said. “We’ll sort it out.”

We stayed lying down until a cloud came and put the sun away. With groans we got up and tugged on our clothes. Again I was stuck doing an undignified series of movements trying to get into my jodhpurs.

“Do you do that everyday?” asked Isabela.

“Yes,” I said, doing a side-lunge and tugging them up higher onto my waist.

“This is why I do not understand pants,” she said.

 

I forced them to help me clean up from lunch, and then they all wandered off, leaving Fenris and I together.

There was a little awkwardness between us now. Just a hint of it, in the corners, of not knowing exactly where to put our hands or how to look at each other. We ate sandwiches of barbecued meat and left over salad in front of the television, subdued from the loudness of the group and tired from the long day. Fenris kept looking outside, and when he caught me looking at him he gave a small smile that turned into a yawn.

“I am too tired for it to be this early,” he said, gesturing at the window. The sun hadn’t set yet.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“I am certain as soon as I lay down I’ll be wide awake.”

“Go have a shower, then,” I offered.

It felt homely. Us, together, sort of leaning against each other. Going to bed early like tired old people. I was never much for romance. For me, what Zevran did for Fenris was perhaps the pinnacle. The equivalent of running down a street, or flying across the world. Heart ripped out and put in a box; that’s love. But lying on a couch not really talking or moving, not even really touching, to me, that was romance.

I got him a towel, and let him shower in my bathroom.

I thought of him.

Him, there. Standing naked in the same place that I’d been naked.

I closed my eyes and thought about Fenris, my hands lightly folded over my stomach, getting the weight of them confused with the idea of him leaning over me. Kissing me. Barely brushing his lips against mine. Hand lightly against my neck.

I don’t really have any kinks. Feet. I like feet. And necks. Throats. I like watching people swallow, or when their neck tightens as they breathe. Or hands. I imagined his hands on my neck, just lightly, a thumb brushing down to between my collar bones.

I felt a hand in mine. I opened my eyes to see him, shoulders bare and wet, towel loosely over his hips.

“I realised,” he said. “That I was having a shower alone, when I could be with you.”

“Oh,” I said. He tugged gently on my hand, hard calluses and soft skin warm against mine. His eyes were dark and green, his hair wet on the ends, and he was beautiful. I followed him. 


End file.
